


The witchers' stalker

by Ledgea



Series: The witchers' grapevine [1]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Crack Treated Seriously, First Impressions, First Meetings, Friendship, Gen, Gossip, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-02
Updated: 2020-06-17
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:00:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 43,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24512722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ledgea/pseuds/Ledgea
Summary: Jaskier's inability to knock and his bad luck get him a new nickname : the witchers' stalker.Jaskier is just trying to survive his encounters with rude witchers, Geralt is grumpy and doesn't use his words and the witchers are wondering if they deserve what is happening to them.Surely no one deserves to be walked in on by a stumbling idiot who always insists that he didn't mean to disturb them.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier & Witchers
Series: The witchers' grapevine [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1794697
Comments: 141
Kudos: 431
Collections: Soft Witcher Fics for Bad Days, The Witcher Alternate Universes





	1. Jaskier, why didn't you knock ?

**Author's Note:**

> This a little cracky fic about Jaskier meeting witchers and making a not so good first impression !  
> Hope you enjoy !

**Chapter one : Jaskier, why didn't you knock ?**

Geralt is woken up by the sound of someone trying to lockpick his door. That's the downside of nice inns, he muses, doors with locks instead of a good old wooden bar. He groans, rolls out of bed, snatches one of his swords and posts himself next to the door.

He can only hear one heartbeat and the quick breaths of one person. He then asks himself who would be stupid enough to try to rob or kill a witcher alone in the middle of the night and concludes that it must be someone very stupid or someone very confident in their own abilities.

He determines he's stupid when the intruder lets out a small noise of triumph when he manages to bypass the lock and the door opens. Geralt levers his sword and presses the blade to the throat of the intruder before letting it be pushed aside gently by the man.

“Jaskier,” he says in an exasperated tone, “What are you doing ?”

“Geralt, my dear witcher ! How nice is it to see you !”, is the answer he gets from the grining bard. Jaskier then just gets to his feet, bypasses Geralt and enters the room.

Geralt peers swiftly in the corridor and when he's satisfied that nobody followed Jaskier, he closes the door and locks it again. When he turns back, Jaskier has put his belongings next to his own and is spread out on the bed. He leaves enough place for Geralt to be comfortable and pats the covers insistently until the witcher sighs, arranges his sword next to the bed and flops belly down next to him.

“Fancy room you have here.”

Geralt doesn't need Jaskier to voice his question, he knows the bard is curious. “Came with the contract. Last night in town. Leaving tomorrow”, he responds succinctly, hoping to end the conversation before a headache can start to bloom behind his eyes.

Unfortunatly, it appears that he is not in luck tonight and Jaskier continues. “Ah, good, my dear friend. I might, come morning, be in need of some assistance to leave this lovely town...”.

Geralt sighs in his pillow and asks in a defeated tone, “What did you do ?”

“Oh, nothing dramatic, I assure you”, is the alarming answer he's given.

He growls, “Jaskier” and gets a more detailed story.

“I may have bedded this lovely exquisite woman who may or may not be engaged to be married tomorrow to this noble of really small importance”.

Geralt grunts unhappily and lets him continue. “And maybe someone saw me leaving the charming lady's bedchamber and called the guard...”.

Just another one of the bard's escapades then, which is going to turn his morning sour, just great, Geralt thinks. But it still doesn't explain how Jaskier found him.

“But what are you doing here ? We weren't supposed to see each other again before two weeks on the other side of the country.”

Jaskier tries to waylaid him by starting to speak, “I was invited to sing in the court of …” and he cuts him off.

“In my room, Jaskier.” It's not really a question but he hopes by the tone of his voice that the bard will understand that his patience is starting to reach its limits.

“Stop being grumpy, I am sure that you are delighted to see me.”

No such luck. Geralt then lets out another displeased grunt and starts to push Jaskier towards the edge of the bed. Jaskier flails a little and attaches himself firmly to Geralt's arm in the hope that he won't tumble off the bed.

“Yes, yes, okay, please stop it !” he hisses. Geralt stops pushing him but an angry rumble starts to let himself be known and Jaskier decides wisely that it is probably best if he answers his friend. He doesn't fancy sleeping on the floor. “I heard a witcher was in town and decided that you would be a perfect escort !” he explains.

Geralt looks at him astonished and asks, “How did you know it was me ?”

Jaskier spluters a little bit before confessing that he didn't know for sure that the witcher was Geralt, he didn't think about asking more precise questions. The witcher privately thinks that his former deduction that it was an idiot trying to get into his room has just been confirmed and continues to prob “What would you have done if it hadn't been me ?”

Jaskier hums a little bit and trails his fingers across the arm that he is still gripping before answering.

“Are you sure you're not the last witcher left alive ? I mean, we've been travelling together for what ? Six years on and off now ? And I've never even met another witcher... For all I know, when you tell me of other witchers, which to be fair isn't that often and always very very vague, you're just making everything up...”

Geralt utters a new displeased grunt and starts to push Jaskier off the bed again. He hears a foot land on the floor, pushes just a little bit harder and Jaskier goes tumbling on the floor making a startled noise. It doesn't stop him complaining.

“ _That_ was unfair ! You can't deny that I've snuck into “a witcher's room” more than a dozen times since we've met and it was only ever you ! Never met another witcher ! So sorry if I'm a bit disbelieving when you tell me I could end up meeting another witcher !”, he ends his tirade in a huff.

Geralt sighs the sigh of the long-suffering and decides that he doesn't want to continue to try to instill some common sense into Jaskier's head at this hour of the night. The bard resumes his humming and is still on the floor so Geralt grunts at him to get on the bed again. Jaskier complies immediately.

“Thank you, my dear dear witcher !”

Of course, it is too complicated for him to do it quietly.

“Shut up, need to sleep, we leave before dawn.”

Jaskier isn't deterred by his tone and continues to push his buttons, “Can't we enjoy this comfortable bed a bit longer ? Please ? Geralt !”

Geralt lets out another long suffering sigh before answering him.

“Have to beat your pursuers, your fault.”

Jaskier finally falls blessedly silent and Geralt starts to drift off to sleep when he hears, “Thank you, Geralt” being whispered to him.

The witcher grunts again, turns on his side so his back is to Jaskier and adds quietly, “If you ever find yourself in front of a witcher that is not me, please duck then run. Wouldn't want to have to avenge you.”

Jaskier snorts quietly. The witcher hears him turning and tossing on the bed before he settles with his front against Geralt's back and burrows against him to try to share some heat. Geralt decides magnanimously to let him be. Just before sleep claims him, he hears Jaskier murmuring against his back, “Thank you, Geralt.”


	2. Totally should have listened to you

**Chapter two : Totally should have listened to you**

  
  


Jaskier doesn't think about his conversation with Geralt again before at least six months and then curses himself for not having taken his friend seriously enoug. To be fair, he was sleepy, exhausted after some really good sex and his run across the town so he thinks he is allowed some leeway for not paying close attention. And he didn't lie when he said that in all his years travelling with Geralt, he hadn't seen nor hide nor hair of a single other witcher and his friend wasn't exactly forthcoming about his brethrens.

  
  


Jaskier was really starting to think that Geralt was the only witcher left and the others some kind of dream or rumor which just does spread on its own. In retrospect, his belief might have been a little bit stupid and he _is_ berating himself for it now.

  
  


In the year after their conversation about barging in on a witcher in the middle of the night, he has entered three more rooms on just hearsay about "a witcher" and he only ever met Geralt, even when they weren't supposed to meet for another few days or weeks. So he thinks Destiny was kind to him all these years or he had very good luck. Luck which just abandonned him.

  
  


He is in a small settlement in the middle of nowhere when he hears that a witcher is in town and is taking care of a contract about some monster that lives nearby. Said witcher has a room booked at the only inn for the night and Jaskier bullies the innkeeper until he is let up in said room.

  
  


He doesn't ask for the witcher's name or description and just goes upstairs assuming it is Geralt. His friend never minds when they share, or at least he stopped complaining lately, and in echange Jaskier will be paying for breakfast. He also has secured a performance for tonight and napping the afternoon away in a free room is very nice. Geralt hasn't left any of his belongins in the room but he supposes that without a companion to keep an eye on them, he is right to be wary.

  
  


When the time for his performance comes, he goes down in the common room and, seeing as his witcher isn't back yet, asks for a bath to be prepared for him. He isn't ready to sleep with a foul-smelling Geralt tonight... if he doesn't find better company, _that_ could still happen too.

  
  


His audience is lively and he gets paid well enough for a small backwater town. His music draws in a large crowd and the innkeeper looks happy. At least he is content enough to offer him a free meal and an ale and Jaskier thanks him. He spots the bath he ordered being prepared halfway through his performance and frowns a little when he realises his friend isn't back yet. He hopes that nothing happened to him.

  
  


He flirts the evening away in between songs but doesn't manage to get rid of jealous husbands or overprotective fathers and brothers. When he finishes his last song - _Toss a coin to your witcher_ , which would be better received with an _actual witcher_ present, but hell Geralt can't be bothered to make his life easier - he drinks another ale, tries to entice another woman into his bed before her husband shoes him angrily away and finally decides that Geralt's room will do for tonight, unfortunately.

  
  


He tries to stay awake, he really does but after cleaning his lute, washing himself quickly and fluffing the pillows for the third time, he doesn't find anything else to do than flop on the bed. He rolls left and right, pops his fingers, stretches and then stretches some more before deciding to concede that he is sleepy.

  
  


He burrows under a dubiously clean blanket in the middle of the bed so Geralt will be forced to wake him when he comes back and Jaskier will be able to fuss at him a little, if he can stay awake long enough to do so. He turns on his side so he can see the door, left unbarred, and it isn't long before sleep claims him.

He is woken up by the tip of a blade pressing on his throat and flinches hard before scrambling backwards on the bed and raising his hands in a placating gesture. Geralt had woken him harshly from time to time – by kicking him awake or just by pushing him off the bed – but he had never put one of his blades on him, not even when he woke up suddenly from a nightmare, grabbed the first weapon close to him and wasn't completely lucid yet as to be harmless to his sleeping companion. So he feels quite justified to give him a piece of his mind.

  
  


“What the fuck Ge...” and stops there because when he finally gets a good look at his host, it isn't Geralt. The man is certainly a witcher, he can discern his bulk in the dark, yellow eyes, short hair, the two hilts of his swords protruding behind his shoulders and the blade of his long dagger, which isn't pressed agains his throat anymore but is still close by, too close for his comfort.

  
  


“Sorry, are you lost ?”, continues Jaskier because he's running high on adrenaline and straight thinking in a tense situation isn't really his strong suite.

  
  


Usually, when he doesn't have a witcher in his pocket, his charm can get him out of most of the delicate situations he finds himself in. So he is going to play the stupid bard who doesn't know why a witcher is in this room and not the idiotic one who stole his bed because he never bothered to check which witcher it belonged to. He curses himself internally and laments the fact that this situation could only ever happen to him.

  
  


“What are you doing in my room ?”

  
  


The question is growled and the blade presses forward again so Jaskier scrambles quickly off the bed and tries to reach his belongings to run out of this room, this town and probably this kingdom entirely.

  
  


He doesn't manage to take three steps before he is pushed against the wall and the blade is back at his throat. The witcher closes in on him and his free hand roams against his body searching him. Jaskier lets him do as he pleases without struggling – he doesn't carry a blade so he should be fine – and tries to answer his question.

  
  


“Sorry, sorry, my dear witcher, I am deeply sorry for intruding in your room, see I think I may have the wrong room. Was looking for...”, and because he still has a little sense of self-preservation and doesn't want to get Geralt in trouble, he decides to omit the fact that he thought that the room belonged to another witcher. With his luck, and seeing how this witcher is prickly, he hates Geralt and would gladly gut him just to spite his friend. And Jaskier would very much like not to be gutted, thank you very much.

  
  


“You were looking for what ? Some fun ? Some thrill ? Brag to your friends that you spent the night with a witcher and what, lived to tell the tale ? Or are you waiting for me to let my guard down and then rob me ? Or murder me maybe ?”

  
  


The words are growled next to his hear and the dagger presses a bit more against his throat. The witcher's free hand finishes his search by patting his left thigh and comes to rest next to his head.

  
  


Jaskier swallows, he feels trapped, and answers in a whisper that he hopes will placate his reluctant host.

  
  


“I was looking for the room of a friend. I'm sorry, I really didn't intend to intrude upon you and I don't mean you any harm. Not that I think that I could harm you, I'm no match for you. I've been frequently informed that I couldn't harm a fly even if I tried ! And really playing this kind of rude jokes isn't my style either... If I'm in a room with someone, it's usually more for a good long satisfying romp between the sheets.”

  
  


He can't look the man in the eyes seeing as his face is still next to his but he's still mortified by what finally comes out of his mouth. He can't believe that he didn't manage to control his urge to prattle. What a time for his charm to fail him ! He blushes when he feels the witcher snort against his ear and sags a little when the blade finally leaves his throat.

  
  


Jaskier doesn't move for a moment, at a loss about what to do. Run ? Don't move and hope to become one with the wall ? The witcher takes a step back and gestures imperiously towards his belongings. Jaskier doesn't need a verbal command.

  
  


He retrieves his lute, his bag, the clothes he threw on the sole chair of the room and his boots before making a quick exit from the room. He's barely out of the door when the witcher slams it behind him and Jaskier can hear the bar being put into place. He takes four shaky steps before he has to lean against the wall to support himself. His legs are shaking.

  
  


“Fuck”, he curses.

  
  


He's barefoot and in his sleeping clothes in the corridor of a dark inn and all he can think about is that Geralt was right, barging in witchers' rooms isn't really good for his health, if his heartbeat is to be believed. He owes him an apology, or not, because Geralt will never ever hear a single thing about this meeting if Jaskier has anything to say about it and he will do his very best to hold this promise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's not really clear who's who in the beginning and it's deliberate.  
> But it can be confusing, so if you were wondering, this witcher was an OC!!   
> He'll come back later too :D


	3. An injured viper is scary

**Chapter three : An injured viper is scary**

  
  


Jaskier is especially careful for the next five months after his unfortunate encounter with the strange witcher. When he hears that a witcher is in town, he asks for his hair color and his name, if it is known by the locals. He doesn't even invade the room until he has seen that the witcher he is looking for is actually Geralt. And it is him, the four times that he happens to stumble into a witcher, he finds his friend. So his unfortunate meeting seems to have been a fluke, a discrepancy in his useful ability of stumbling-upon-Geralt-unexpectedly.

  
  


He tries to get Geralt to talk to him about other witchers but he doesn't get that much information from him. According to his friend, most of them are prickly bastards best avoided and he doesn't speak about the few decent ones in fear of quote “damning them with the presence of an unwelcome leech looking to suck dry their small well of patience by annoying them until they spill their guts to him, agree to let him tag along or just gut him in the middle of the road” end-quote. He finds that a bit rude and informs Geralt of it loudly and endlessly.

  
  


When he tries to resume his interrogation, he finds his target less than cooperative and Geralt starts to become suspicious. He manages to assure him that he doesn't plan on following another witcher around and that he wouldn't go purposely looking for another one. And to be fair, his last encounter with an unknown witcher didn't go so well and he is a bit more wary, even if he doesn't voice this to Geralt.

  
  


He eventually learns that there is no more than twenty witchers left and probably less. Geralt isn't really an outgoing person and doesn't keep track of the remaining witchers so he can't even give him an estimation. And to top it all, he confirms Jaskier's guess that he can't stand several of them. Geralt explains the importance of a witcher's medaillon and that it reflects their school, he then adds that vipers and cats are to be avoided at all cost.

  
  


Jaskier tries to remember what the medallion of the witcher he “met” some months ago looked like but he can't recall if he even saw it or not. The room had been dark and he was scared so he didn't really pay attention to the details. Furthermore with Geralt as his only source of information, he is almost sure that he has nos chance of identifying the unknown witcher with only the small details that Jaskier can remember. So he decides to let this encounter go and stops thinking about it.

  
  


They separate again at the beginning of the harvests, Jaskier has some festivals to visit and play at and Geralt wants to take a few more contracts before starting to head north for the winter. They intend to meet again near Hagge a month later to travel together to Ard Carraigh where Jaskier plans to spend his winter while Geralt continues on north.

  
  


Everything is going smoothly for Jaskier during the harvest festivals that he attends. He plays for lively crowds, eats and drinks at his leisure and gets paid good coin. He beds some lovely women and travels with buoyant compagny between towns.

  
  


He hears about the presence of a witcher two villages before their agreed meeting place and decides to check if it is Geralt. It could be him, it wasn't uncommon for them to meet up a bit early, or a bit late, depending on how their affairs turned out.

When he asks the inhabitants of the village where he can find the witcher, they direct him to the only inn of the settlement. He enters said inn and he  _really_ plans to ask the innkeeper about the name of the witcher or about his physical appearance to assess if it is Geralt but he gets sidetracked by the trail of blood he finds on the floor. It isn't enormous but it is wide and long enough that he gets worried.

Thus he just goes directly to the innkeeper, gets confirmation that the blood is from the witcher and understands in the short conversation that nobody cares if the man lives or dies. Nobody went to check if the witcher needed help or if he was even still alive. This infuriates Jaskier and he maybe shouts at the innkeeper until the man directs him to the witcher's room. He manages to obtain an ale for free and pays for a bath to be brought up to the witcher.

  
  


Finally he goes upstairs and the trail of blood leads him to the last room on the left of the floor, just as the innkeeper said it would. He doesn't bother knocking and just kicks the door open – the innkeeper told him he had the bar removed so that the witcher couldn't lock himself in, everything to make him leave faster – preparing himself to see Geralt bleeding all over himself in absolute misery.

  
  


“My dear witcher, I heard that you were hurt. I ordered you a bath and I will ...”

  
  


When he finally registers that the witcher that he has in front of him isn't Geralt and doesn't look like the one he met six months ago, he lets out a little shriek and drops to the floor to dodge the dagger that comes flying his way. The ale spills on his clothes and the door closes again in front of him. He hears another blade embed itself in the wood of the door before he perceives heavy footsteps coming his way.

  
  


He deposits the half-empty mug of ale in front of the door and takes several quick steps back. When the witcher opens the door, he kicks the ale away and snarls “What do you want ?” at Jaskier.

  
  


He doesn't look good, thinks the bard. He is shirtless and a long gash is oozing blood all along the right side of his chest. A needle and a thread are hanging from the stitches that the witcher had begun to make himself.

  
  


The man is just enormous, clearly bigger than Geralt and he could probably break Jaskier in half without breaking a sweat. The witcher takes a few steps forward, he is limping, and looms over the bard. Jaskier looks at his medaillon and mourns his luck, which has decided to abandon him cruelly in his hour of need, because the witcher in front of him is a viper and thus, according to Geralt, is to be avoided at all costs.

  
  


Jaskier suppresses a whimper, continues to move back slowly and tries to appear non threatening. The witcher is covered in sweat from his chest all the way up to his shaved head and he probably shouldn't be up. But Jaskier still has a little bit of a sense of self-preservation and doesn't voice his opinion. Furthermore he has another dagger in his hand and looks ready to use it.

  
  


“I'm sorry”, he says.

  
  


Apologizing to witchers he doesn't know starts to look like a new characteristic of his and isn't  _that_ just a little bit frightening. 

  
  


He continues with only a small tremor in his voice, “I was looking for someone else, I really, really didn't mean to bother you ! I'm so sorry, I'll just go and never trouble you again ! I swear !”

  
  


Jaskier finally reaches the stairs again and is debating wether showing his back to the strange witcher is a good idea or if he should take the stairs backwards to keep him in his line of sight at the risk of breaking his neck. The witcher comes to a halt in the middle of the corridor at the end of Jaskier's tirade and examines him at lenght.

  
  


He seems to come to a conclusion as he doesn't take a step further. Jaskier is left standing in the corridor and looking in the eyes of the unfamiliar witcher. He doesn't dare to look away lest another dagger comes his way.

  
  


The witcher finally grows tired of their game and snarls at Jaskier. It is enough to get him moving. He tumbles down the stairs quickly and ignores the mocking stare of the innkeeper when he emerges in the hall. He decides to go find the next caravan that is leaving this village in the hope of being gone as soon as possible and really hopes that the next witcher he comes across will be Geralt, he is already tired of new meetings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here, have some Letho :D  
> Hope you enjoyed!


	4. Oxenfurt

**Chapter four : Oxenfurt**

  
  


After the debacle that is the engagement party of Princess Pavetta of Cintra, Jaskier follows Geralt north for a week before he can't take the silence and the moodiness anymore. He understands Geralt's point of view, his anger and his disappointment, but the disaster wasn't his fault and he sure as hell didn't ask his friend to invoke the law of surprise.

  
  


So he leaves Geralt in Temeria to his brooding and heads west to Cidaris where he plans to find Valdo Marx and steal the spotlight from him in some harvest's festivals before heading north to Oxenfurt to winter there. He and Geralt don't intend to meet again for the rest of the year but his friend promises him – after a lot of pestering – to look for him come next spring somewhere near Murivel.

  
  


His summer passes quickly and he enjoys beating Valdo Marx in several bardic competitions, his songs are more popular and he basks in the sheer joy this fact brings him. He sings a new song about Geralt and a griffin which is very well received and he loves his developping fame.

  
  


He is starting to become well-known and people ask specially about some of his original songs. His popularity brings a steady flow of women to him too and he really enjoys his summer, even if he has to leave one or two towns in a hurry after one of his dalliances. But such is his burden to bear.

  
  


He really doesn't expect Geralt to seek him out before the next year so he is surprised to hear about the presence of a witcher somewhere along the border between Cidaris and Temeria. He ponders his options before abandonning the convoy he is travelling with and deciding to seek the witcher out. With his luck, it is Geralt who is trying to drown himself in alcohol and needs a little bit of help to sort out his shit.

  
  


The village he stops in has a nekker problem apparently and the witcher went to deal with it before Jaskier's arrival. He doesn't have a room for him to invade so Jaskier sets himself up at the sole inn of the settlement and plays to pass the time. He gets little coin but his meal is offered by the innkeeper so he is satisfied.

  
  


He isn't there when the witcher – who he assumes is Geralt – comes back from his hunt. He's in the little courtyard behind the inn, having a good time with one of the serving girls who happens to be the sister of the innkeeper. After the fourth time her brother bellows her name, his companion decides to leave him and goes back to her work. He takes some moments to compose himself before entering the inn himself.

  
  


When he comes back in, he is informed that the witcher is back but nobody seems to know his name and seeing as he was hooded, they can't even give a depiction of him. It annoys Jaskier but he is almost sure that it is Geralt just trying to hide his most prominent features, his hair and his eyes.

  
  


Jaskier pays for a bath to be prepared for his friend because if his hygiene is left to him, he would travel with a filthy witcher all year round and he likes to spoil him a little, or at least the little that Geralt lets him get away with.

  
  


He sings two more songs and finishes the evening with a spectacularly loud rendition of _Toss a coin_ which he is sure Geralt can hear from his room above the dining hall. Then he drinks one last ale and makes his way upstairs. The witcher has the last room on the right and Jaskier doesn't bother knocking before entering.

  
  


“Darling, did you miss me ? Are you hurt ? Do you need stitching or should I wash your hair ?”

  
  


He finishes his question and curses. He really should be prepared for it by now but he is still surprised when he comes face to face with another unfamiliar witcher. A naked unfamiliar witcher struggling out of the wooden bathtub to grab one of his swords. Jaskier sighs and barely stops himself from knocking his head against the door repeatedly.

  
  


The witcher finally reaches his blade and comes back towards Jaskier dripping wet and naked but still dangerous. The bard takes a few steps back until he can't anymore and his back hits the door behind him. The witcher doesn't seem as angry as the last one he met but it is difficult to judge with the truly horrendous scar that mars his face.

  
  


When Jaskier manages to look down at his medaillon, he is surprised to see that it is a wolf, just like Geralt, and wonders if the two of them are close or can't stand each other. His daydreaming is interrupted by the point of a sword being pressed against his throat – again ! - and Jaskier starts the tedious process of apologizing to another witcher once more.

  
  


“I'm so sorry, I've got the wrong room, I really, really didn't mean to barge up on you, especially not in your bath !”

  
  


“What do you want ?” is the gruff question directed at him.

  
  


“Nothing, I swear”, placates Jaskier with his hands raised, “I've got the wrong room, I was looking for someone else... I seem to have lost myself a little.”

  
  


The witcher contemplates him a little while longer before removing his sword when new footsteps can be heard from the stairs. He rolls his eyes, like he can't believe that an idiot just walked right into his room, which to be fair Jaskier can't believe he did again, and goes back to his room. The door closes again and Jaskier frowns.

  
  


This one wasn't even that mean and he _is_ a member of what appears to be the same school as Geralt so the bard contemplates doing something nice for him. As an apology for barging in on him and as a gesture of appreciation from someone who has to endure Geralt's moodiness to someone who probably has seen it all, they would probably understand each other well, or he might just be extrapolating again. He privately admits that he is digressing and comes back to his original idea.

  
  


He can't recall seeing any soap near the tub and the witcher still had some blood and guts on him so Jaskier rummages through his pack until he finds a bar of lavender scented soap and walks up to the door again. He doesn't bother knocking and the witcher snarls “What.” with an annoyed expression on his face when he sees him and starts to rise from his bath again.

  
  


“Sorry for barging in on you... Again,... Yeah, that's a bit weird. Don't bother to come out of your bath for me, I just... it's stupid but I just wanted to give this to you, to apologize for the inconvenience.”

  
  


He deposits the soap on the chair next to the tub in front of a perplexed witcher who doesn't know what to make of him or his gesture. He waves at him when he leaves with a soft “Take care of yourself” and closes the door behind him, for good this time. He lets out a great sigh in the corridor, picks up his lute and his bag and goes back downstairs to see if Anna, the serving girl, will have him again and if she might be persuaded to share her bed with him for the rest of the night.

* * *

  
  


Jaskier finally arrives in Oxenfurt in the middle of autumn after a journey blessedly devoid of witchers. He spends the first two weeks reacquainting himself with his favorites inns and shops and visiting friends and acquaintances. He is drunk most of the time and enjoys every minute of it.

  
  


When his purse starts to look miserable, he decides to go see the president of the Academy in the hope of securing a teaching post for the rest of the winter. It takes a week to finally be able to meet the president and he spends it harassing his staff expecting his appointment to be pushed forward.

  
  


When the time comes for him to meet the president, the man seems delighted to see him and asks him a lot of questions about his travels and the last courts he visited. He mentions that he played in the court of Queen Calanthe of Cintra for the princess' engagement party and gets hired immediatly.

  
  


He doesn't get an important position right away, he has to prove himself first and the president doesn't want to offend the other professors who are mostly way older than him. He has two lectures a week to give until spring and the job offer comes with free lodging on the Academy grounds and a small stipend so Jaskier is happy enough to accept the offer without a fuss.

  
  


The other professors welcome him politely, if coldly, and try to make small-talk with him. They inquire about his travels, the reason of his presence in Oxenfurt at this time of the year and of course, Geralt. Most are doubting that he really travels with a witcher and think that he is lying but a few are intrigued and listen closely to him.

  
  


One or two professors – notably Vent and Presmislav – don't like to see him appointed to the Academy so young and make their disdain well known. He stays polite with them, which requires a lot of effort, and remembers that they have reasons to not like him, notably because he was a real little shit when he was a student and delighted in embarassing his teachers.

  
  


His first lectures are scarcely attented but they become more crowded as autumn leaves his place to winter. His performances in the dining hall on some of the evenings help to make his original repertoire known and soon he has most of the faculty humming along to _Toss a coin_ and a few other epic ballads.

  
  


Once the professors are conquered by his talent, the word spreads through the student body, along with some true tales and some farfetched rumors that he may or may not delight in and encourage, about his travels, and his lectures become popular. He is really proud of himself.

  
  


As winter progresses, he gets to eat once a week at the table of the Academy's president and gets introduced to a lot of people, mostly young graduates. He is basking in his new-found celebrity and it takes him almost a month to understand that the professors and the president are trying to saddle him with an apprentice.

  
  


The apprenticeship is an honored tradition of the Academy and very useful for a newly graduated bard to start building connections, see a bit of the world and acquire new skills. And apparently he seems to have been judged fit enough to take a young bard under his protection.

  
  


He is torn between being elated by the honor bestowed upon him by the Academy and being irritated that he may have to take care of a dead weight waste of human being who doesn't own a single pair of sturdy boots and can't light a fire even if his life depended on it. His life following Geralt around or running from his trouble isn't easy but it has been relatively kind to him : he makes friends, sees a lot of unusual things and his talent grows and his renown increases and he is proud of himself and of his accomplishements.

  
  


So he doesn't really want to burden himself with an apprentice so early in his career. Furthermore he can't even imagine the expression Geralt would make if a second bard was presented to him to follow him around, pester him and make songs of his adventures. Jaskier thinks that he would hold three days at best and then abandon them on the side of the road without remorse. And that's not even contemplating the reaction his apprentice might have when confronted with a witcher, he couldn't bear to travel with someone who would hate, scorn or humiliate his friend.

  
  


He clearly has a problem. The president is pressuring him and the professors are hinting at him to make a choice before they just deposit a young gift-wrapped bard in front of his door. He finally decides to organize some interviews in the middle of winter and manages to lessen the number of candidates to two. They are a young woman whose mastership of the travel harp is divine and a young man who is a decent lute player and would really benefit from his tutelage. Both of them seem smart enough not to die on the first week of travel and own a sturdy pair of boots too, so there's that.

  
  


He asks them about their opinion on witchers too but their answers seem rehearsed and they quote a lot of stupid rumours that Jaskier knows are not true, for example witchers don't make crops wilt or animals sterile by their presence alone. They listen to him but he doesn't manage to guess if they truly believe him or if they just humour him in the hope of becoming his apprentice. He wishes for Geralt's presence to help him to make a choice because it doesn't seem like he will be able to ditch this duty.

  
  


Barely a day passes after his casual wish to see his friend when he is summoned by the president of the Academy who informs him that he learned this very morning that a witcher was in town and is wondering if it is the famous Geralt of Rivia. If the witcher turns out to be his friend, the president tells him to extend an invitation to him, he would gladly welcome him in the halls of the Academy for a meal and even a lecture if he'd be interested.

  
  


Jaskier can't possibly know if the witcher in question is Geralt or not but, in his gut, he is sure that it is him. To be fair, he wants so badly to see his friend and spring his two prospective apprentices on him that he doesn't even think that it could be yet another unfamiliar witcher or worse, this really rude and scary viper he met a year ago.

  
  


He promises the president of the Academy that he will check if the witcher is Geralt and that he will do his utmost to bring him back if it really is him. He gets the name of the inn the witcher is staying at – The Fish, an inventive name for a seedy place –, collects his two prospective apprentices and almost skips through the town in his haste to reach his destination.

  
  


The inn is located downtown and is one of the seediest places that Jaskier ever visited. The sun is setting by the time that they arrive and the hall of the inn is crowded by unsavory characters who look at them suspiciouly. It is true that they are standing out and Jaskier hurries to intercept one of the serving girls to ask her about the witcher. Confronted by her silence, he is forced to part with a few coins to finally learn that the witcher is currently downstairs. Jaskier takes that to mean that the innkeeper stached the witcher in an alcove or just a corner in the basement and didn't even bother to grant him the use of a room.

  
  


He is a bit disgusted by their attitude and readies himself to ask if the witcher is Geralt when he is rudely interrupted by one of the patrons requesting a song boisterously. He tries to head for the stairs to the basement but a hand grips his coat and he is forced to follow the man towing him towards the middle of the dining hall. He resigns himself to sing one or two songs to calm the patrons and starts to perform just as he sees that his prospective apprentices have turned white as sheets. It then downs on him that they probably aren't used to this sort of places.

  
  


He sings three of his more bawdy and crude songs that have the crowd soon bellowing and the ale flowing even more. He has to swat some hands that get to close for comfort and to sidestep some drunkards that try to throw themselves at him. He is breathless when he manages to reach the two students who look at the crowd with wide frightened eyes and he tugs them towards the stairs to the basement quickly.

  
  


“Are you alright ?”, he asks them, because he isn't a complete asshole, “I know that the first time in a place like this can be quite rough. Nobody touched you ? You haven't been robbed ?”

  
  


When he is reassured as to their weel-being, he goes down the stairs and tugs them down insistently behind him. He doesn't bother being being discreet and calls his friend even as he is walking down.

  
  


“My beloved friend, I have some people that are desperate to meet you and I really hope...”

  
  


He is interrupted when they arrive down the stairs by a crossbow bolt that zings between him and the two students behind him before embedding itself with a “thunk” in the wall behind them. His two prospective apprentices take one glance at the bolt in the wall and go running back upstairs without even looking at the witcher leaning against a corner of the room on a pile of straw in front of them.

  
  


“Well, _that_ was quite rude !”, Jaskier informs the, yet again, new unfamiliar witcher. He should have guessed that it wouldn't be Geralt, he really should have guessed. “But, as it happens, you may have solved one of my problems anyway and I thank you for it.”

  
  


“What do you want ?” is the growled question directed at him by the sitting witcher. He doesn't sound overly threatening but he isn't welcoming either, his eyes are gleaming in the dim light of the basement and a loaded miniature crossbow is being pointed at him. Jaskier can't discern more than that in the darkness.

  
  


“Well, I was expecting someone else to be honest. Wasn't looking for you at all. Sorry for the inconvenience, I'll just leave you to brood in peace.”

  
  


He turns back towards the stairs and doesn't expect a follow-up. He is therefore surprised when the witcher speaks to him again.

  
  


“I heard you before, you were asking for a witcher.”

  
  


“Yes”, he enunciates slowly and ponders what to say. He still isn't confident enough to mention Geralt's name so he tries to stay vague. “I have a witcher...acquaintance, I was hoping to find him but alas, it isn't to be.” He feels the witcher's stare on him before the man snorts quietly and puts the small crossbow away.

  
  


“A word of advice if you want. Try knocking or announcing yourself before barging on every witcher you find. You'll find that not all of us are as level-headed as me.”

  
  


“I'll try it next time” and he doesn't bother denying that there probably will be a next time because with how his luck has turned these past years, he is bound to disturb a few more witchers.

  
  


“I apologize for disturbing you. Good evening.”

  
  


He doesn't expect an answer and this time he doesn't get one. He takes the stairs up slowly and exits the inn quietly. The evening air is still fresh but spring is coming, he can feel it and he can't wait to be on the road again. He looks for the two students that he dragged here tonight but they have vanished.

Later he'll find out that they had run back to the Academy in a panic and had spread the word that he was insane and dangerous. Therefore their little escapade disheartens all the students who might have wanted to spend their apprenticeship year with him and nobody tries to palm another young bard off to him for the rest of his stay. All in all it was a pretty good evening and as he goes to sleep he notices that this time he didn't even panic in front of the witcher and _that_ should maybe scare him a little but he is too tired and content to care.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And Jaskier meets Eskel and then Ivo!
> 
> The idea about Jaskier getting an apprentice has been wonderfully explored by phnelt in "Masterwork" and I decided to put another spin on the idea :D


	5. The Caravan of the Cats

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beware of creepy flighty violent cat witchers.

**Chapter five : The Caravan of the Cats**

  
  


After getting rid off his prospective apprentices, Jaskier spends the rest of his winter in Oxenfurt in isolation. His stunt has lead him to be ostracized by the students and the other professors. He finally gets bored after a few days and looks for something or someone to distract him.

  
  


He was fairly careful about his dalliances in the winter and even if he took interest in some married women, he wasn't caught by their husbands – except that one time but it turned out that the husband in question didn't mind his wife sleeping around as long as when he caught her in the act, he could stay, watch and order her and her partner around without getting physically involded, it ended up being a weird but pleasurable night.

  
  


However seeing as he is bored, he becomes careless and one early day of spring, he finds himself flirting with the Academy president's wife. He doesn't make the choice on purpose but she is sweet, if a little plain, and blushes very prettily. She is delighted by his wit and his charm and he can see that she is lonely. They spend another week flirting with each other before things come to a head and she asks him to share her bed. He doesn't want to refuse her and spends some very nice hours in her company. Unfortunately, come morning, he is seen leaving her chambers by some maids and by the time midday comes around the whole Academy is aware of his indiscretion.

  
  


He is summoned by the president in the afternoon and decides that he doesn't want to confront him so he packs his bag and his lute and runs out of town at great speed. He imagines that he can consider himself banned from the Academy for a few years and until a new president is elected but can't be bothered to be sad about it. He is free, on the road again and Geralt and adventures are waiting for him.

  
  


Before leaving Oxenfurt, he has the presence of mind to ask some town guards about possible convoys heading east, because travelling alone at the end of winter isn't a good idea given the possible starving bandits he might encounter.

  
  


Unfortunately he isn't in luck and is forced to leave the town alone. He is luckier four villages over and half a day past when some innkeeper informs him with a mean smile that a caravan passed through two or three hours before him. Apparently they came from up north and were headed east.

  
  


He wonders about the mean smile and then remembers that he cuckolded him some years past and verifies the information with some locals who confirm it. He decides to try his luck and goes after them. He plans to reach the convoy in the night, enquire about their destination and pay them to take him on if their pathsthey seem to be headed in the same direction.

  
  


Jaskier finally reaches the convoy four hours after sundown and is too tired to want to deal with its drivers and bargain for a place among them. So he sneaks in, which is easy because there isn't any sentries posted. He thinks it a bit weird and hopes that this is not a bandit convoy or something like that. He finds an empty cart full of grain sacks but devoid of human presence and decides that it'll do to spend the night. He falls asleep as soon as he is somewhat comfortable.

  
  


He wakes up with sunshine in his face, lulled by a gentle rocking motion, and with a pair of slitted yellow eyes staring at him. He yelps when he sees a witcher sitting next to him, scrambles backwards and tumbles over the side of the cart in a mud puddle. He barely manages to save his lute from getting dirty and curses as he gets back on his feet. By the time he finishes wiping his doublet and his pants, the caravan has stopped and he can see about ten witchers staring at him.

  
  


"So, the little stow away is finally awake !" exclaims a dark haired witcher coming from the front of the convoy. He has a scar that goes from his cheek to his neck and the other witchers let him through easily. Jaskier thinks that he may be the leader. He steels himself and accepts that he can start to apologize again.

  
  


"Right, sorry, I don't really know what I'm doing here. I didn't mean to bother you. What happened to the convoy ? Were you hired as security ?"

  
  


The witchers look at him strangely as if they are debating if he is trying to bullshit them or if he is just plain stupid. Jaskier doesn't like it and starts to back off towards the end of the convoy. He is stopped in his retreat by his colliding with a witcher who doesn't seem inclined to let him pass. He rights himself, tightens his grip on his lute and really hopes that he can get through this situation unscathed.

  
  


"We are the convoy", enunciates the leader slowly, as if speaking to a child, "This is the caravan of the Cats".

  
  


"A witcher's caravan ? Really ?", Jaskier can't quite contain his elation because it is a fascinating concept. "Why didn't I know about it ? Are you always travelling together ? Hunting together ? Ohh, this is so exciting !"

  
  


The frowns are back on the faces of the witchers who seem unaccustomed to see such interest directed at them. He quiets down to wait for an answer, which doesn't seem to be coming anytime soon, and then realizes that as a caravan full of witchers, they must have known that he sneaked in last night and they let him do it. He can't quite comprehend _why_ and it scares him so he continues babbling.

  
  


"Right, yes, none of my business, I won't pry further, not interested at all. I'll just go. Backwards. Far away from you. Let you continue on your way."

  
  


He points behind him and tries to take some steps in that direction before he is being stopped again. The witchers are closing in on him and he feels trapped.

  
  


"Why are you spying on us ? Who sent you ?" asks the leader.

  
  


"Nobody sent me ! I'm not a spy !”, Jaskier defends himself, ”I was looking for a convoy headed east to join them and in the last town, the locals told me that a caravan had been through mere hours before me and I decided to catch up to it. They didn't mention that it was a witchers' caravan though. My presence is just an accident, a coincidence."

  
  


The leader frowns and studies him carefully. Jaskier tries to look sheepish and unthreatening in the hope that he'll be allowed to just walk away. Finally the leader inclines his head and two witchers seize Jaskier by his arms and drag him to the side of the road. He isn't feeling confident and starts to struggle.

  
  


"Stop, stop, please ! It was just an accident, I won't ever speak of it ! Please !"

  
  


"Sorry", says the leader and he looks it too, "but we don't take risks. Cut his throat and leave him in the forest, the animals will erase all traces."

  
  


"No, no, no", he panics. "Listen, I've got some friends who are going to be really disappointed if I don't show up in a few weeks to meet them and they may take my death a bit personally and try to avenge me so you might consider letting me live. I promise I won't speak of you to anyone". His sentence ends in a yelp as he is kicked to his knees and a witcher catches a handful of his hair and tugs hard to bare his throat.

  
  


"Are you threatening us ?", the leader seems almost amused now.

  
  


Jaskier gulps before answering.

  
  


" _I_ couldn't threaten you even if I wanted to. If you want to kill me, you'll kill me, there's nothing I can do about it. It was just a friendly piece of advice", he explains and then begs, "Please."

  
  


There's no answer to his plea and he sees a knife being brought up from the corner of his eye. All at once it dawns on him that he is going to die here, in the middle of knowhere, because he had to stumble upon prickly witchers at every corner of every fucking street.

  
  


He thinks about his family and his friends and hopes that his body will at least be recovered before being eaten by animals so that they can bury him properly and mourn him. And just because he is a spiteful bastard, his last wish is for Geralt to kill all of them in retaliation because he deserves a little bit of revenge being exacted in his name, dammit!

  
  


He stays straight backed and closes his eyes when he feels the blade being pressed against his throat and waits for the finishing blow. He feels a small trickle of blood reach his chemise but nothing more.

  
  


After a handful of seconds, which seems like an hour, he opens his eyes and sees the leader looking at him and whispering quietly in the wind. He can't hear what is being said and to whom and doesn't possess the ability to read lips so he waits. He doesn't squirm and doesn't speak and it takes every once of his self-restraint not to begin to beg again.

  
  


He sees the leader becoming more and more agitated and the pressure on his throat increases. He is almost certain that it will scar if the Cats let him live and he doesn't know how to feel about it.

  
  


After long minutes of what appears to be an argument with a person Jaskier can't see, the leader sighs and approaches him. He goes on in knees in front of him and runs one of his fingers in the blood maring his throat. He then proceeds to wipe it on Jaskier's left cheek. He reiterates the proceeding twice, smearing the blood on Jaskier's right cheek and on his lips before clutching his chin and speaking.

  
  


“We're goint to let you live”, he murmurs and if Jaskier wasn't being held by two witchers, he would sink to the floor. “One of our elder has a _feeling_ ”, he sneers at the word, “that ruin would befall us if we were to kill you and he has been right before. You should thank him.”

  
  


Jaskier stays silent but the witcher seems serious and isn't inclined to free him yet so he utters a quiet but heartfelt “Thank you” in the wind and feels a bit stupid for it. The blade finally leaves his throat and he can breathe a little bit easier.

  
  


“If I hear that you spoke of this encounter to _anyone_ , we'll find you and you'll wish to have been allowed to die quickly on this road. I'll make choke on your blood.” And to demonstrate he coats two of his fingers in Jaskier's blood again and pushes them in the bard's mouth. Jaskier splutters against the digits in his mouth and the disgusting taste of blood on his tongue but refrains from biting the witcher.

  
  


“Is that clear ?”

  
  


“Perfectly. I'll stay quiet. Nobody will know. You have my word,” he answers when the witcher removes his fingers from his mouth. The witcher nods, looks at him a little bit longer and pats his cheek demeaningly before getting up again. His two guards let go of him and he collapses on himself breathing hard and fast.

  
  


The witchers get back to their convoy, the leader looks a last time at him and they are off, gone. Jaskier waits a while on his knees on the floor before he dares to get up. He is shaking and doesn't know what to make of this encounter. Why was he spared ? On a hunch ? Or was it calculated ? Will they come back for him ? Tonight ? Tomorrow ?

  
  


He wipes the blood of his face as best as he can, wraps a cloth around his throat, collects his fallen belongings and starts walking back to the last village. Yes, it is in the wrong direction but he is not goint to follow the witchers' caravan, he isn't suicidal and he knows when he is not wanted. He'll book a room at the inn and wait for the next convoy to pass through, hopefully this one devoid of scary witchers.

  
  


And he decides that when he'll see Geralt again in a few weeks, he'll hug him as hard as he can and he won't let go until he is hugged back. He deserves comfort after this dreadful ordeal and Geralt will have to accommodate him for once. In any case, his new found and hated ability to stumble upon witchers at inconvenient moments is obviously his friend's fault because his life was very much less scary before he met Geralt. And less interesting too, he has to concede.

  
  


* * *

  
  


When he finally meets Geralt near Murivel, Jaskier hugs him as promised and doesn't let go for at least fifteen minutes. He then finally takes pity on his oblivious friend and tells him that he wants to be hugged back and that it is the only way that he may be rid of him.

  
  


Jaskier then sees Geralt take notice of the thin scar on his throat. His friend scowls at it, brushes his thumb gently against it, sighs and finally embraces him back. He hugs him tight and Jaskier feels finally safe, the ghost of the touch of the cat witcher disappearing slowly but surely.

  
  


He spends his spring, summer and the first half of autumn in the company Geralt. They only part for two weeks at the end of summer and Jaskier spends eight months without seeing any unfamiliar scary witcher. He makes sure to be very nice to Geralt to thank him for his protection even if the witcher doesn't know why he needs to be thanked.

  
  


Unfortunately the end of the year comes by again and Geralt needs to make his way north if he wants to reach the place where he winters before snow obstructs everything. Like almost every year, Jaskier asks about this secret place but the witcher only hums and doesn't answer his questions. They travel together up to Hagge and separate there, Geralt going north and Jaskier south to Vengerberg where the king of Aedirn invited him to spend the winter.

  
  


They plan to meet up again come spring in Vengerberg and then to travel south to Lyria and Rivia together. They part after a last night spent drinking at a tavern and in the morning Jaskier watches Geralt ride away. When he can't see his friend anymore, he turns south and starts walking. He heard from the locals that a convoy passes every year through a town a day's ride away to make their way south to Lyria by way of Vengerberg at this period of time.

  
  


He plans to catch up to them and accompagny them up to the capital of Aedirn. But first he has a little bit of travel to do and when he arrives at said town a day later completely exhausted, he learns that the convoy already left. He checks that there isn't any witcher in the caravan he is seeking, just to be sure, and continues on after a quick meal at a local tavern.

  
  


He has to spend another night outside in the woods on his own but he notices that the marks left by the carriages of the convoy seem fresher. Two hours after sunrise he stumbles on the camp that the men of the caravan obviously used to spend the night and he hurries again because he is catching up to them.

  
  


He manages to maintain his rhythm up to midday and then he starts to falter. He eats a little bit of jerky and bread and gets his hands on his lute. He tries to compose a new song for Geralt but can't focus enough and decides to concentrate his efforts on a song meant to insult the last lord that tried to swindle his friend. The lyrics and the tune come easily and naturally.

  
  


He is lost in his own little world, just aware enough not to stray from the path, and that explains why he walks straight into a horse who doesn't step out of his way. He bounces back with a wince and looks around him. He finally notices that he overtook two carts and that he finds himself in the middle of the convoy he was looking for.

  
  


The only problem is that attached to the horse he bumped into is not a living hale man but a corpse. He shouts when he sees him and realizes that the convoy is quiet, too quiet. He peers around the horse and the corpse but can't see anything. He exhales slowly, puts his lute away, prays that no one is still around to have heard him and turns back, he'll find another way south, no problem.

  
  


He manages to turn away but bumps immediately on a very firm chest. He doesn't even have to look up to know that it is a witcher, he can see the cat medaillon just fine, thank you very much. He still looks up and recognizes one of the witchers who held him captive the last time he met the Cat's caravan.

  
  


He sighs, points his finger at him and says, “No. I didn't see anything, I was never here” and tries to step around the witcher. The man grins before gripping his arm harshly and towing him towards the front of the convoy.

  
  


He sees more corpses, all men, no witchers, and when the human convoy ends, he finds himself facing the Cats' caravan. Apparently the two convoies bumped on the road, one going south, the other north and it ended in a bloodbath. In the middle of it all he finds the same witcher that he thought was the leader the last time and he touches his throat nervously.

  
  


He is brought before the leader and the witcher preens in front of his peers.

  
  


“Look what I found, our little stow away is back !”

  
  


Jaskier groans and inspects his surroundings. The witchers are crowding in on him and his chances of escape go from infinitesimal to null, he is despairing inside his head. Why are these things always happening to _him_ ? Who did he offend to deserve this fate ?

  
  


The leader grins at him and adresses his brethren.

  
  


“Look what we found ! Our dear friend... you know I don't think I caught your name last time.”

  
  


“Neither did I yours,” answers Jaskier. “So what happened here ?”

  
  


“Our paths crossed and they took ombrage to us being witchers. Nothing terribly original I'm afraid. We corrected their mistake.”

  
  


“Right. Well you'll be happy to hear that I didn't see or hear a thing. As a matter of fact, I was never here to begin with. So you'll excuse me but I'll be on my way.”

  
  


“Not so fast little stow away. Why are you so sure that we'll let you walk away this time ?”

  
  


The leader stalks up to him and stops a hairbreath away from his chest. Jaskier's nose is level with the witcher's chin and he starts to shake. The witcher smiles and touches one of his fingers to the light scar maring his throat. Jaskier gulps audibly and takes a step back. The witcher laughs and his eyes fucking twinckle. Jaskier wants to throttle him.

  
  


“I kept my mouth shut. And I can keep quiet about that too,” he snaps, “Do you still have a feeling of impending doom when you look at me ? Because if so, you might as well let me be on my way and stop being a jackass.”

  
  


“Oh little kitten grew claws since our last meeting.”

  
  


“Already had them, they just needed sharpening.” He doesn't really know what is happening but he can't stop and he seems to be amusing the witchers.

  
  


“If you say so. You're free to go but remember,” the leader approaches his hand again and brushes it against his throat before Jaskier slaps it away, “a word about any of this and you'll be regretting it.”

  
  


“I know, I know, something about chocking on my own blood.”

  
  


He waves at the leader and goes past him. The witcher lets him and isn't that a nice surprise ! His heart is beating so fast he's afraid he's going to faint but he keeps going. He sees two or three corpses more and walks along the caravan of the Cats in silence. The witchers watch him pass, they step aside to let him through and smirk at him as if to say that they know that he is terrified and that they could kill him at anytime.

  
  


He starts to run when he rounds the first bend in the path and is sure that they can't see him anymore even if they can probably still hear him. He only stops running after what feels like hours, but was probably only minutes, and swallows long gulps of water frow his waterskin at the same time wishing for some wine.

  
  


He hates the cat witchers, he decides, they are even more scary than that one viper. Geralt was right when he said that they were best avoided, he muses. When his heartbeat ressembles something close to normal again, he starts walking and swears that at the next town that he comes across, his first stop is going to be a tavern and next a brothel, because he deserves comfort and care after dealing with stupid scary evil witchers while he was just minding his own business. He hopes and prays to never see the Cats' caravan again in his life. Twice in less than a year was totally enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They were all OCs.  
> Aiden will get his own personal meeting later, lucky him :D


	6. The worst week of Jaskier's life

**Chapter six : The worst week of Jaskier's life**

  
  


The worst week of Jaskier's life starts in spring in Vengerberg. He didn't think that his witcher problem could get any worse that stumbling upon the caravan of the Cats twice in less than a year but clearly someone somewhere took it as a challenge.

  
  


He spent his winter in Aedirn's court and is now ready to leave again, the only problem is that Geralt is late. In itself it isn't alarming, it happens. The witcher probably took some contracts on the way south and is now running a bit late. But it is a problem because Jaskier is bored.

  
  


His tenure at court has ended and he found himself a new place at the best tavern in town where he plays three afternoons and four evenings out of seven. He managed to secure two more evenings to perform at the inn where he sleeps so he could have a discount on the price of the room but it still leaves him with an evening when he is free to go gallivanting about town.

  
  


He controls himself the first two weeks, beds only prostitutes and is very proud of himself for it. But on the third week he meets the loveliest woman of the continent. Long wavy hair the shade of gold, sparckling green eyes and beautiful shapely legs that are to die for. Sheila is also witty, can hold her own against any man bothering her and laughs at his jokes and sighs dreamily at his love songs and Jaskier thinks that he is in love.

  
  


He holds out three more days because he _knows_ that there is a catch somewhere, he hasn't just figured it out yet, and his escape plan, if the situation turns sour, is taking his sweet time to make his way to Vengerberg.

  
  


On the third day, one of the serving girls of the inn where he stays at tells him that a witcher arrived in town last night and is now staying in the brothel five streets over. Knowing Geralt, Jaskier supposes that it could take his friend a day or two to scratch this sort of itch, if he has the coin to pay for it, and decides to let him be for now. He knows where to find him if he is in trouble and that is all that matters. 

  
  


In the same afternoon Jaskier bathes, perfumes himself and carefully chooses his outfit before making his way to the tavern for an early meal and then his evening performance. Jaskier sighs in relief and adoration when Sheila arrives to listen to him play.

  
  


He puts on a really good show and sings his favorite love songs for her. He has barely finished singing when Sheila finds him. He inhales the rest of his beer in one gulp and follows her outside. She leads him to a small house not far away and they enter it quietly.

  
  


She tugs him up some stairs and in a small clean room where she pushes him down on the bed before locking the door. He watches her put away two daggers and undress herself and the catch finally makes itself known. She's pregnant.

  
  


Jaskier can just see a small little bump that can still be hidden under clothes and debates leaving the room, he can already smell the trouble coming his way. But she approaches him, sits herself on his lap and he puts his hands on her hips and she is lovely and Geralt is in town if he has to beat a hasty retreat so he thinks _fuck it_ and kisses her.

  
  


He is woken up suddenly in the morning by the sound of heavy footsteps on the stairs and then some violent pounding on the door of the room. Sheila is already dressed and she throws his clothes at him with a scowl. Jaskier mourns his ideas about sweet morning sex and dresses quickly. Sheila is arguing with what sound like her brothers and she manages to pin her pregnancy on him in the conversation.

  
  


He is appalled by her daring but before he can defend himself, Sheila turns to him and advices him to run for it before her family catches up to him. Her family who, as it happens, runs a criminal gang, Jaskier could weep if he lets himself think about it.

  
  


His last question before climbing down the window is a simple “Why ?” and Sheila explains quietly that she is trying to protect her lover and the father of her child. She tosses him his lute once he is safely on the ground but she doesn't offer him an apology. Jaskier takes one last look to this beauty turned cold overnight and then he starts to run.

He reaches the inn where his room is booked in a matter of minutes and a cold feeling makes his way through him when he sees the smashed door. The hall is ransacked as well but the innkeeper and all the serving girls are accounted for to his relief. They scowl at him when they see him and Jaskier dodges the man's arms when he tries to catch him. He runs to his room and it takes him a few seconds to take in the disaster.

  
  


His room was clearly ransacked too. His bag was torn open, his clothes ripped, his notebook lies in shreds on the floor and his vials of oils and perfumes have been smashed on top of everything else. He isdismayed when he sees it and falls to his knees.

  
  


He doesn't have time to feel sorry for himself before the innkeeper comes in and tries to grab him again. Jaskier dodges him and collects what he can, his slashed oily bag, two doublets, three chemises and two pants, all ripped. He abandons his smashed vials and his torn bedroll but manages to catch his sewing kit, a pair of socks and his flintstone before the innkeeper catches up to him and throws him unceremoniously out.

  
  


Once in the street he catches the eye of the bystanders who start to point at him and whisper together. He ignores them and patches his bag up crudely with strips of cloth torn from one of his chemise. It is nothing sturdy and is just enough so that he can shove his meager belongings in it. He is just glad that his lute was with him and escaped the disaster.

  
  


When he is satisfied with his quick patch up job, he heads to the brothel where he was told Geralt took residence. The witcher will be grumpy when Jaskier informs him that they need to leave immediately but he'll make it up to him somehow.

  
  


He spots a mean looking henchman waiting in front of the brothel and hurries inside. He then has to pay the madam to be told in which room he can find the witcher and then takes the steps two at a time as he goes up the stairs. He finds the right door, takes a deep breath and pushes it open.

  
  


“Sorry to disturb you, my dear friend, but we really need to leave.”

  
  


His sentence ends in a murmur when he spots a black beard, a shaved head, scars and cat-like eyes. It is not Geralt. Jaskier thinks about collapsing on the floor in hysterics because he just walked in on a, yet again unfamiliar, witcher who has his head between a woman's thighs while he gets his cock sucked and that is a new low even for him. Unfortunately he doesn't get the chance.

  
  


He hears shouts coming from outside, probably his pursuers, the witcher looks murderous in front of him, the door lacks a lock or even a bar and he can't backtrack now. He still closes the door and sticks a chair and a small table in front of it without having any doubt about the difference it's going to make to the men looking for him, none whatsoever sadly.

  
  


“What the fuck ?” roars the witcher who now wears a towel across his hips. The man catches him by his doublet and shakes him, hard.

  
  


“I'm sorry, I was expecting to meet someone else. Didn't plan to bother you.”

  
  


He is apologizing to a witcher again and he laments the fact that it has become a recurring act in his life. He regrets finding himself in this situation because he had developped a strange habit of associating danger with Geralt and his wonderful capacity to get him out of it. He blames his friend for that one.

  
  


“If you're not to busy... you could help me to evade my pursuers. Please ?” He widens his eyes and pouts but it doesn't move the witcher who has to be an uncaring brute. That is proven true a few seconds later.

  
  


“I'll show you help, you little asshole.”

  
  


The witcher hauls Jaskier to the window and he squirms in his grip because one escape by window was enough for a day. The grip doesn't slacken and Jaskier stops struggling because he doesn't want to tear his last whole doublet up. The witcher opens the window, pushes the shutters apart, looks right and left, waits thirty seconds and throws Jaskier out. He closes his eyes, grits his teeth and prays that he doesn't break his neck.

  
  


He lands roughly on the back in a cart full of manure and despairs again. He sits up and grips his right arm, which hurts a bit, before getting back down when he hears the witcher's loud roar of anger echo in the street from the window of the brothel. The driver of the cart isn't reassured either and speeds up. And that is how Jaskier ends up out of the town, having escaped his pursuers and an angry witcher, with almost no belongings and stinking of horse shit. He hates his life.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Fours villages, a stream and two days later find Jaskier singing in a tavern in exchange for a hot meal and a tankard of watered down beer. He isn't in a cheery mood and it shows through his singing. He croons his most spiteful songs dedicated to everyone who wronged him or Geralt before, Valdo Marx, Sir Veld of Vilding, Duke Herbert of Ander, the faculty of Oxenfurt's Academy and that one innkeeper who wanted them to pay to sleep on the _doorstep_ of his fine establishment. He hates them all.

  
  


The crowd he gathers seems to like his songs but he is forced to accommodate them eventually and he throws in some funny tunes. He finally earns his meal in the afternoon and settles at a secluded table to eat in peace.

  
  


He drinks half of his tankard before getting his sewing kit out and tries to salvage one of his doublet. He already mended his two chemises but his doublets are proving difficult. It would be best if he could buy new ones but he doesn't have the coin at the moment.

  
  


He does what he can for his doublet, which will never be good enough again for a court but will suffice for country taverns and inns. He folds it carefully and packs it again in his bag, which he'll have to remplace as soon as possible too. He sighs when he thinks about the unpleasantness of the last few days, finishes his drink and gets up to leave.

  
  


He nods to the barkeep and the door almost collides with his face when it is slammed open by what appears to be a wealthy merchant of some sort. He pushes Jaskier to the side without apologizing and heads straight to the bar. He then starts to complain loudly about the witcher - the word is said with such contempt that it makes Jaskier's skin crawl – in the stables and sneers that if the tavern wants this man's patronage tonight, they better tell the monster to get lost.

  
  


Jaskier shakes his head in disgust, gets out and heads to the stable. He means to warn Geralt, because surely it is him making his way south to Vengerberg, to take Roach back out and that they'll have better luck outside of town tonight. He strides in and starts to bellow in the hallway of the stable.

  
  


“Well, you took your damn time making your way here, you ass ! I had to leave town in a hurry so maybe we should ...”

  
  


When he reaches the last box, he comes face to face with a witcher. A bald one with a viper medaillon who frowns at him even as he holds on the reins of his horse. Jaskier stomps his feet and raises his arms in exasperation.

  
  


“Of course, of course”, he mutters, “life couldn't be easy just this once, not at all, it has to be difficult ! Sorry to interrupt, I was looking for someone else ! I'll leave you be.”

  
  


He turns on his heels and adds, “You should skip town, a merchant is having a fit in the tavern because of your presence.”

  
  


“Thanks ?” the witcher answers in complete puzzlement and Jaskier waves at him before leaving. At least he wasn't threatened this time or thrown in a cart full of manure, he considers it a win. He abandons the town behind him because he can't afford a room at the inn and resolves himself to spend another night on hard ground.

  
  


After another night spent outside, Jaskier's foul mood doesn't abate all day. He crosses one village where he relieves a travelling merchant of one of his purses and continues on his way not quite on a run but a bit more quickly than before.

  
  


He reaches a new settlement in the late afternoon and pays for a room at the local inn with his stolen coin. He agrees to sing for supper and goes napping on what turns out to be an uncomfortable straw mattress shoved in one corner of a room meant to be shared by four people. He is still the only occupant for now and relaxes in silence.

  
  


The innkeeper wakes him up as the sun starts to set and Jaskier joins the dining hall yawning. He eats before performing and then sings again his most spiteful songs. He adds a new one too, a mocking tune that speaks of an idiot merchant who likes to throw fits for anything and everything, is fooled by everyone he knows, from his wife to the nobles he serves, but doesn't ever catch on.

  
  


By the end of it, he has the crowd roaring in laughter and is proud of this little tune he composed on the walk here. He sings a few more funny songs that quickly become bawdy as the night progresses and the ale flows more freely. He collects two decent handfuls of coin and is offered breakfast in the morning by the innkeeper. He thanks him gratefuly and turns to leave when the man snatches his arm.

  
  


“Master bard, I'm sorry but I had to rent your room to another customer too.”

  
  


“Oh, it's not a problem. I'm used to sharing and I saw the three other mattresses. The others aren't... hum, how do I put it, didn't look like unsavory characters ? I'm not in any danger to be robbed or killed tonight, right ?”

  
  


The man hesitates and Jaskier thinks that he is going to be forced to relocate for the evening because he doesn't want to have to keep an eye open all night. He'd like to rest for once. But the man finally answers him slowly.

  
  


“I don't think so. It's just a … man, well a mutant you see, but his coin is as good as anyone else's.”

  
  


“You mean a witcher ? White haired ?”

  
  


“Can't tell you”, the man says apologetically, “he had a hood on. Yellow eyes is all I saw. It doesn't bother you ? I don't have any other room left...”

  
  


“It's fine”, he waves the man's concerns away, “I'll see you tomorrow then. Have a good night.” He takes a trip outside to relieve himself and when he enters the inn again, the customers are leaving in small groups and waving at the serving girls. It seems like a quiet peaceful town, he muses.

  
  


He finally goes up and finds his bag on the doorstep of the room. He looks at it for a few seconds before trying to open the door, it doesn't budge. Jaskier feels his annoyance coming back and knocks loudly. When he doesn't get an answer, he hits it again and begins to hiss knowing the man would hear it.

  
  


“You ! It's my room too, I'd like you to know and I paid for it, just like you, you damn son of... of an ox ! So you better open it right now or I'll start to sing _Toss a coin_ very loudly and very off-key ! Don't try me, you damn well know I'll do it !”

  
  


The door finally opens and he is unceremoniously tugged inside by an irate witcher. The door is slammed closed again and he is roughly shoved agains it. Not Geralt then. A blade is pressed against his throat and he swallows an angry quip. The black haired witcher, another viper according to his medaillon, looks at him and then sneers.

  
  


“I don't care about what you want. _I_ just need peace and quiet for an evening so you will take your screeching elsewhere and I won't be forced to slit your throat. Understood ?”

  
  


“I don't screech !” is Jaskier's indignant answer. He knows that it is not smart but he can't help himself. His retort extracts a growl from the witcher and then he is tugged forward, the door is opened and he is pushed out of the room again. He hears what sounds like a chair being placed on the other side of the door and his anger comes back.

  
  


“You swine”, he hisses, “I hope you drown in your own vomit one day. Fucking witcher.”

  
  


And because he has a little bit of sense left, he steals a loaf of bread from the empty kitchen and leaves the inn altogether. He doesn't want to meet the witcher again in the morning and be tempted to slap him. It would probably not end well for him anyway.

  
  


He walks for an hour before it starts raining and he curses his luck, the damn viper and Geralt of fucking Rivia for being late in the first place. When he'll see him again, he'll slap him so hard, he'll pay for the damn viper and the damn whatever who threw him in a cart full of manure. But for the moment he contents himself with walking and decides to find a mage as soon as possible.

  
  


He arrives wet and completely exhausted in the next town at mid-morning. He buys breakfast at the first bakery he sees and enquires about a mage. Luckily for him he ended up in a town big enough that a sorcerer is present. He immediately heads to his tower situated in the outskirts of the town.

  
  


He knocks febrily on the door and is relieved when the mage bids him to enter. He is met by a tall blond man that smiles at him. Jaskier tries to smile back but he is sure that it looks more like he is grimacing. He apologizes to him because his ordeal didn't erase all his manners yet and enquires about a portal.

  
  


He has just enough coin to pay the mage, and he is almost sure the man lowers his price because of how frazzled Jaskier looks, and asks to be transported to the border between Aedirn and Kaedwen. With his luck, if he stays he'll run into another witcher dead set on threatening him but if he moves north, he might take Geralt by speed and then they could go south again together.

  
  


With his strange ability to find Geralt when he most needs him, Jaskier is almost sure that they'll eventually meet up anyway. The mage seems a bit surprised by the vague destination but complies readily enough.

  
  


Jaskier peers through the portal as it opens and is satisfied by what he sees, a path surrounded by meadows on one side and forest on the other, not a drop of rain and not a soul in sight. He thanks the mage and steps through. The sorcerer waves at him from his tower and the portal disappears.

  
  


Jaskier lets out a deep breath, looks at the sun to determine his position and heads north. He collects some edible herbs and plants on his way and casually strolls the day away. He starts to look for a place to spend the night when he is too tired to continue walking and heads in the forest, not too far in to be dangerous but deep enough to not be seen from the road. He trudges through the undergrowth and finally finds what he was looking for, a small clearing where he can hear the sound of a stream nearby.

  
  


And lo and behold, a horse is already present. He eyes it curiously before taking in his surroundings. The camp is prepared with a fire on cleared earth just far enough from the trees so that it cannot touch them. A stick to spear meat or fish is placed on the right side next to a pile of herbs on a flat rock and a wood pile big enough to sustain the fire all night. On the left, near the trees, is spread a familiar looking bedroll next to two saddlebags.

  
  


The setting of the camp is oddly familiar and it takes a moment for Jaskier to realise that it is set _exactly_ the same way as how Geralt does it. He would know, he helps set it often when they are together and got shouted at enough in the beginning when he did something wrong.

  
  


He falls to his knees in relief and lets out a deep breath. He looks around and yes, the horse is unfamiliar, but Geralt sadly mentionned acquiring a new Roach last autumn because the old one was getting slow and deserved a quiet retirement instead of a gruesome death by monster. He must have found one who fits his criteria and is probably a right bastard again so he lets her be.

  
  


Jaskier drops his belongings next to the saddlebags and puts his hands in front of the fire, it feels good. He debates stealing the bedroll to nap but he isn't in a the mood to be sneaked upon, even by his friend, and there is still some hours of daylight left. He needs something to occupy himself to stay alert. He doesn't want to play his lute, he performed enough in the last few days, and decides to do some laundry when the sound of the nearby stream registers again.

  
  


He gets his clothes and a bar of soap, that he acquired three days before, out of his bag. He is so happy to have found Geralt again that he roots through the witcher's saddlebags to find his dirty clothes – a pair of breeches and two shirts - and takes everything to the stream.

  
  


It is a little clear and cold river but suitable to do some laundry. He finds a flat place next to the water where he can kneel without getting wet and starts his task with dipping his two spare trousers in the water. He then scrubs his chemises and doublets clean before turning his attention to the witcher's clothes.

  
  


He sighs when he sees blood and what looks like vomit on his friend's clothes but isn't really surprised, a witcher's life tends to be messy and Geralt never bothers to wash his garments thoroughly. He once explained to Jaskier that he didn't understand why he should spend hours scrubbing his clothes when they would inevitably end up bloody in the days to come.

  
  


Jaskier couldn't really argue with his logic so he dropped the argument but, when he is in the mood, he makes an effort on his friend's clothes. Besides he loves to see Geralt scrunch up his nose when he finds his clean clothes but he never complains so Jaskier keeps doing it.

  
  


His clothes and Geralt's breeches are drying on the grass on the bank of the river and he is scrubbing at a particularly tough stain on one of his friend's shirt when a strangled sound makes him lift his head.

  
  


And there, right on the other side of the stream, is a witcher. A dark haired witcher, with a close cut beard and a scar going over one of his eyes and down his face, who is looking straight at him and seems to become more and more agitated as seconds pass.

  
  


“What the fuck ?”, does he snarl eventually before striding over to Jaskier.

  
  


The bard lets the shirt he was washing fall from his grasp - he is doing the laundry of an unfamiliar witcher, how is this his life ? - and takes some hasty steps back. The witcher catches up to him easily, snatches a handful of his chemise and shakes him hard. Jaskier tries to break his hold but the witcher won't relent and his anger comes back again because what did he do to deserve to meet four strange witchers in less than a week ?

  
  


“I should be the one asking you that ! You're not supposed to be here ! You think I like stumbling across rude stupid witchers all the time because someone somewhere decided to have a laugh at my expense ? I fucking hate it and couldn't you just fucking disappear and let me live my life in peace you damn big dumb ox ?”, he finishes his rant screaming.

  
  


“I didn't ask for you to go looting my bags, asshole !”

  
  


“And I didn't ask for your presence either so we're even. Besides I was doing something nice, you ungrateful... Ow, you prick !”

  
  


He is first interrupted by a fist to the nose and he feels blood spurt. He takes a hold of his nose and doesn't see the second punch coming but feels it connecting with his head. He falls unconscious.

  
  


He wakes in the dark stretched next to the smoldering fire with his lute next to him and no witcher in sight, the bastard left him then. He sits up, touches his nose gingerly and is relieved to find it unbroken. His face feels bloody and he has a bump on his temple but he is otherwise fine.

  
  


He cranes his neck and a sigh escapes him when he spots his bag a few feet away. He curses two minutes later when he sees that his clean clothes have been dumped in a mud puddle and he swears that if he sees this witcher again, he'll make him eat his damn boots in retaliation.

  
  


He screams bloody murder in the empty clearing and hopes that the witcher can still hear his shouts from wherever he fucked off to. He feeds the fire and sits down on a rock before deciding that he has had enough of witchers for now and that he is going to go visit the countess de Staël for a while.

  
  


It's for the best, this way he might retain a little bit of his sanity. His next step decided, he goes back down on the ground to catch some sleep and his last thought is for his friend, _screw you, Geral, all of this is your fault. I'll make you pay me back tenfold for the trauma when I see you again._

  
  


* * *

  
  


Jaskier spends six wonderful months with the countess de Staël before she kicks him out of her estate with no explanation. It has possibly something to do with his drunken rants about uncouth witchers. Maybe. Probably. If someone asks, he'll say he hasn't got a clue.

  
  


He leaves her heartbroken, gets drunk a lot and then almost dies because of a djinn. After this experience, he can add crazy sorceresses to the list of frightening people he has met and who will feature in his next nightmares.

  
  


Geralt travels with him for a few more weeks because he apparently feels bad about the incident with the djinn and allows himself to be dragged to two festivals without a fuss. They follow the river Pontar and their paths diverge in the beginning of autumn. Geralt continues on east and Jaskier goes north.

  
  


After his close call with death, he decided to visit his family in Lettenhove. It has been a few years since he last saw them even if he tries to write home at least once a year to reassure his relatives that he is still alive.

  
  


From the last news he got, he has a new nephew that he hasn't met yet and he is excited to get home. He'll be able to spend four to five months resting in a safe place and in spring he plans to meet up with Geralt again to go north, where they haven't yet been together, and maybe even reach Kovir or Poviss later in the year.

  
  


But first he has a journey of some weeks before him. He finds a nice convoy for the first part of his trip and then has to stay in a small town for a few days waiting for another one to finish his journey. He occupies his days by scouring the market in search of gifts for his family and his evenings by playing at a tavern.

On the third day, he comes back to his inn from the tavern exhausted and sweaty and heads to the room where all baths are drawn. He requested a tub be prepared for him when he would come back and he looks forward to a relaxing evening. He takes three steps towards the room before he is being stopped by one of the sons of the innkeeper.

“Excuse me, master bard, but you can't go in there”, the boy whispers to Jaskier.

  
  


He frowns at him.

“Why ? Is the bath not ready ?”

  
  


“No, the room is occupied. By a witcher”, the last part is whispered so quietly that Jaskier almost misses it.

  
  


“Oh ! Well it is a room meant to be shared, is it not ? So he'll have to deal with my presence. I need this bath so badly and I won't be deprived of it because of a prickly witcher. Can you see to its preparation, please ?”

  
  


He goes back upstairs to deposit his lute in his room and collects his soap, a towel and a change of clothes. He hopes the witcher isn't one he already barged in on. And as he told the boy, it is a room meantto be shared so it's not like the man could take offence at his presence.

  
  


He hopes his reasoning is sound and that he won't end up with another nosebleed. When he comes back down, the boy is wringing his hands next to the door of the baths. Jaskier smiles at him and pats him on the shoulder.

  
  


“Don't worry. Can you fetch me a glass of wine too, please ?”

  
  


The boy nods and scampers off quickly. Jaskier enters the room and indeed a man is occupying one of the tubs. Another one, on the other side of the room, has been prepared for him and he strips quickly before entering the tub and sighing in relief. The boy knocks on the door and comes back with the glass of wine. Jaskier fishes some coin out of his pants to give to the boy who is watching the witcher warily.

  
  


“I'm sure that he won't eat you or me, you know,” he tries to reassure him, “he seems asleep too”, Jaskier knows that the witcher probably isn't but if it stops the frightened looks, he'll call it a win. “Here, thank you.”

  
  


The boy takes the coin, looks one last time at the witcher and runs out of the room. Jaskier relaxes in the hot water and looks at his bathing companion. He is blond and he can see some scars on his arm. He doesn't think that he met him yet, granted he didn't get a good luck at some of the witchers in the dark so he can't be sure, but he doesn't remember blond hair.

  
  


He cleans himself quickly, washes his hair, leans back in the tub when he is finished and closes his eyes to enjoy the rest of his bath. It isn't everyday that he can pay for a hot bath and he intends to revel in it. He starts to drift off slightly and jerks when a voice disturbs him.

  
  


“I know you.”

  
  


He opens his eyes and peers at the witcher who is now looking at him.

“Sorry, I don't think we've met. Pretty sure I would remember you.”

  
  


The witcher snorts and adds, “You invaded my room four years ago. Found you sleeping in my bed.”

  
  


“Oh !”, Jaskier exclaims, “That was you. Or rather me. You didn't do anything. I didn't realize you were blond. You're actually the first blond witcher I meet.”

  
  


“Know a lot of witchers ?”

  
  


“You would be surprised”, he says wistfully.

  
  


The witcher chuckles and closes his eyes again. They bask in their tubs in silence a little while longer before Jaskier stirs. His bath is getting lukewarm and he hates lounging in cold water. He steps out of his tub and dries himself quickly before dressing. He drains the rest of his wine, collects his belongings and heads for the door.

  
  


He is stopped with his hand on the door handle by the witcher's voice.

  
  


“You know, your company is much more appreciated when you don't force your presence on others.”

  
  


Jaskier sniggers at that and answers him quietly, “I'll try to keep that in mind. And I really was sorry for barging in on you, I didn't mean to bother you.”

  
  


“And you're not sorry now ?”

  
  


“Should I be ? Or did you miss the memo that this was a _communal_ bathroom ? As in, can and will be shared. By different people. At the same time.”

  
  


The witcher hums. “You're weird, you know. One of a kind. Not many would be willing to share a room with a witcher. Not everyday someone is willing to share with one of us.”

  
  


Jaskier shrugs. “Thank you, I'll take it as a compliment. And you witchers aren't as scary as what you like to make us poor humans think. Mostly. Some of you are quite nasty.”

  
  


The witcher laughs.

“Maybe you _do_ know a lot of witchers after all.”

Jaskier detects a hint of humor in his tone and smiles.

  
  


“Maybe I do. I bid you a good night, witcher, and good luck on your Path. Perhaps we'll meet again some day.”

  
  


“Good night to you too, bard. Safe travels.”

  
  


Jaskier nods at him and exits the room. He goes back upstairs and crawls under his covers. He replays this last encounter in his head and is quite happy at how it turned out. No threats, no injuries and he made the man laugh.

  
  


It occurs to him that they didn't introduce themselves and it was a bit rude of him to not offer his name or enquire after the one from his bathing companion. Maybe the man didn't notice, you couldn't exactly say that witchers were polite and well-rounded people. A good day all in all. And who knew witchers could be charming when they wanted to be ? He drifts off to sleep promptly after that and sleeps peacefully.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here we have Coën, Auckes, Serrit and Lambert in one week.  
> And we finish with the OC from the first chapter.
> 
> This one was very fun to write. I hope you enjoyed reading it!


	7. The witchers' grapevine

**Chapter seven : The witchers' grapevine**

  
  


The first time Geralt hears of Jaskier's shenanigans, he is lounging comfortably in one of the pools of the hot springs beneath Kaer Morhen. Eskel is leaning against his shoulder, Vesemir is sitting on his left and Lambert is sprawling in front of them all. They are all tired after a long day of repairs on the keep and some sparring and they are now enjoying a well-deserved soak. They are mostly drowsing when Lambert speaks up and says out of the blue :

  
  


“I met the Stalker in spring.”

  
  


Silence reigns for a few seconds before Eskel asks what everyone is thinking, “What ?”

  
  


“The Stalker”, says Lambert slowly, “I met him, gave him a bloody nose too.”

  
  


“You have a stalker ?” continues Eskel bewildered.

  
  


“No, you idiot. I'm speaking of the man who barges in on unsuspecting witchers when you are not waiting for him. Aiden and I named him the Stalker.”

  
  


“I really don't understand what you are speaking of.”

  
  


“Speak clearly,” orders Vesemir.

  
  


Lambert sighs but complies.

  
  


“Okay. So you _do_ know that there is an asshole who delights in barging in on witchers at inns or brothels or campsites, right ? It started a few years back and I finally met the man. Didn't you hear about it ?”

  
  


“From whom ?” grunts Geralt.

  
  


“Other witchers !”, exclaims Lambert. “It's the latest hot topic on the grapevine.”

  
  


Geralt looks at Eskel and is relieved to see that his brother seems to be as lost as him. Vesemir is looking at Lambert like he is slowly going mad and maybe the problem comes from the younger witcher and not them.

  
  


“What grapevine ?”, asks Eskel slowly. Lambert looks appalled and raises his arms in dismay.

  
  


“The witchers' grapevine ! Sometimes I wonder how you assholes  are  even  functionning as witchers  ! ”

  
  


“Lambert”, sighs Vesemir who pinches his nose in annoyance, “try to explain it from the beginning for us, please.”

  
  


“Well, when you meet another witcher on the path, there's this unspoken rule that you pass on the latest news. Like who died recently, what places should best be avoided, what nobles will try to refuse payment, useful information that makes your life easier on the Path.”

  
  


Geralt looks at Lambert in complete befuddlement because he wasn't aware such a rule existed. According to him, other witchers are best avoided and, if it cannot be evaded, greeted with a nod and then run from at the earliest convenience.

  
  


“You don't do that”, remarks Lambert, “What the fuck ! It's common decency ! You don't have to like them or even buy them a beer, just pass on the news, get some information in return and hightail it out of the place if that is what you want.”

  
  


“When did it become the norm ?”, enquires Vesemir, “I can't remember ever being taught about the ... grapevine.”

  
  


Lambert shrugs. “Don't exactly know. It's because there's so few of us left. Stick with your brethrens and all that shit.”

  
  


“And _you_ share information when you meet another witcher ?”

  
  


“Yeah, sure. Like I said, common decency these days. It was me who told Auckes and Aiden that Blaviken was to be avoided at all costs for example. Auckes shared the news with the other vipers, Aiden with the cats and a bear he met that year and Coën learned it from that bear and round it goes.”

  
  


“Blaviken ?”, asks Geralt puzzled.

  
  


“Yes, you dimwit. I know you didn't want to share what happened to you there, but we know you, Eskel and I, and we decided that the rumor that said that you slaughtered a ton of people in cold blood for no good reason was shit and probably the locals' fault. Hence the warning to stay away. I thought that you wouldn't want to issue it yourself so I did it myself, you're welcome, you shit.”

  
  


“You didn't have to,” whispers Geralt but inwardly he is pleased that his brother decided to try to show his appreciation of him even if it didn't register with him at all.

  
  


“Okay, so I can see how the grapevine could be useful”, says Vesemir, “anything else of interest that you'd like to share ?”

  
  


“Let's see. There was a group of bandits who was located near the Newi river last spring and who isn't afraid of attacking a witcher. The town of Dansk in Verden is full of racists who will try to rob and beat you so avoid it. Don't answer the summons of the Duke of Prezlaw of Sodden or of the aldermen of Tridam, good chances are you won't be paid.”

  
  


“Oh, crap, the advice about the duke would have been useful this season”, says Eskel.

  
  


“Toussaint is weird but you'll get paid well enough by the nobles there. Wolf witchers aren't welcome in Cintra anymore, don't know why but Coën gave me the information personally and Aiden confirmed it, so I'm sure that's accurate.”

  
  


Geralt winces because Cintra is probably his fault but he really doesn't want to explain this clusterfuck for now so he stays quiet. He'll speak about it another day, probably, maybe.

  
  


“So we know who Coën is, you talk about him often enough but who's Aiden ? It's the first time I hear you mention him”, asks Eskel.

  
  


“A friend”, Lambert grimaces and dives under the water. When he emerges, his face is firmly set into a scowl that threatens bodily harm to anyone who would dare to continue this line of questioning. Eskel and Geralt grin at each other, they just found something to tease their little brother with apparently, but right is not the perfect moment to use their new-found knowledge so they don't push. But they won't forget about it either.

  
  


“It is pretty useful”, continues Vesemir, “but I cannot fathom what a stalker is coming to do here.”

  
  


“That's the fun part of the grapevine,” grins Lambert, “there's a little bit of gossip too.”

  
  


Esker and Geralt groan together and they debate leaving the hot springs altogether because witchers' gossip ?  Must be boring as hell  and they don't need to know about the latest crap a bunch of nameless witchers did to have some fun .

  
  


“Shut up, you two assholes,” orders Lambert and they comply only because Vesemir seems interested and they don't want to incur his wrath. 

  
  


"The gossip is the part where you share the fun or weird information you come across. Like if you found a good whore that is not afraid of witchers, if you have news about the bard who fucking wrote that annoying song  _ Toss a coin..." _

  
  


"What about the bard ?", interrupts Geralt with a growl.

"Oh ! You know something !", delights Lambert, "The grapevine is trying to find out who he is. There is a standing order to buy him a drink if you find him. To thank him or whatever, because his song may be annoying as hell and speaks about the least impressive witcher to ever live", his brother grins and Geralt scowls at him, "but sometimes that song makes our life a little bit easier and it is appreciated. Not often you find someone ready to help a witcher out. So out with what you know, Geralt ! Where can I find him ?"

Geralt grunts at him, dislodges Eskel and dives under the water for a few seconds. He has no intention of speaking about Jaskier with Lambert. Nobody knows that he still travels with the bard and he'd like to keep it that way. He smiles meanly at his brother when he emerges and takes his place back against the wall of the bath so Eskel can lean against him again. Lambert rolls his eyes.

"Whatever", he sighs, "you can be an asshole when you want, Geralt, but I can be a mean single-minded fucker when  _I_ want and I'll get it out of you". 

  
  


The threat is accompanied by another eyeroll and Geralt relaxes again. Lambert can try but Geralt has perfected his innate skill at staying silent into an art form. His brother can try to pry things from him but he'll get nothing. Geralt is just that good and he is damn proud of it.

"Well forget the bard", he continues, "for a few years now there has been talk about a guy just barging in on witchers. It took us some time to take the first witchers subjected to him seriously and to understand that it was the same guy every time. And we still don't know who he is but apparently he has a unique ability that affords him to drop in on poor unsuspecting witchers, to force his presence on them and then leave unscathed."

Geralt smiles at the description Lambert gives of witchers and Eskel frowns and asks, "What does he look like ?"

Lambert grins at him, "Brown hair with some stupid bangs, blue eyes, garish clothes, as tall as Geralt I'd say, can't knock for shit and carries a music instrument."

Geralt lets the back of his head thunk on the tiles behind him and thinks  _ What the fuck, Jaskier _ , because the description fits his friend perfectly and he knows that the bard has a knocking problem. He lost count of how many times Jaskier just barged in on him because he needed a place to stay or a swift escape from the latest husband he angered. 

  
  


And apparently he is now seeking out other witchers,  _ just great, perfect _ . He hopes nobody made the connection between him and Jaskier, it could mean trouble for the bard and he would be teased endlessly by his brothers for his entanglement with such an idiot.

It then registers to him that the witchers are looking for Jaskier to thank him and at the same time are exasperated by him because of his tendency to walk in on them. He smiles at the ceiling because it is such a Jaskier thing that it reminds him of his own encounters with the bard, when he is glad to see him and exasperated by him at the same time. Luckily nobody comments upon his slip in composure because Eskels exclaims, "Oh, I think I met him three years ago !"

"Really ?", asks Lambert in an excited voice, " You too ? That has to make eight of us and the caravan of the Cats."

"Damn that's impressive", whistles Eskel.

  
  


"Yeah. As far as we can tell, it started with Heyn four years ago," Lambert starts explaining.

"Who ?", grunts Geralt.

"Heyn ! Blond one, school of the Bear. Oh, you're fucking hopeless !", Lambert rants confronted with the confused faces of his two brothers but he continues anyway. "Then we have Letho, he barged in on him as he was injured. The next year, it was you, Eskel, I guess and Ivo sometimes in winter in Oxenfurt. And the year after that it was the cats. This year, it was Coën, Serrit, Auckes and me in the span of a week and I still can't understand how he managed to do _that_. These are all the meetings I know of but there could be more..."

Eskel whistles, impressed, and Geralt has to agree with him. It is an impressive list of witchers. Jaskier has been busy apparently, and is lucky to be alive because Geralt knows that Letho, at least, is a prickly bitch on the best of days and probably wouldn't take well to be walked in on unexpectedly, especially while injured.

  
  


Geralt's thoughts are interrupted by Vesemir as he picks up the conversation again.

  
  


"But the Caravan, really ?", he wonders.

"Yep, couldn't believe it when Aiden told me. Apparently he stumbled on the caravan _twice_ in less than a year, completely by accident."

"What kind of idiot stumbles on the cats twice in less than a year ? And _by accident_?" asks Eskel, "They aren't that insconspicuous."

Lambert shrugs. "Don't know. But he has to be lucky because they let him live. Apparently one of their elders, or some shit, had a bad feeling and they decided to just let him go."

Geralt sighs in relief and wonders how Jaskier achieves to always find trouble wherever he goes. He's infuriating. He's not even present but he manages to make him worry about him all the same. He'll put him on a leash when he sees him again. Or maybe not, he's not sure he could be able to deal with a whole season of being subjected to Jaskier permanently. He needs peace and quiet sometimes, even if he's not sure that he'll be able to find peace again knowing about the bard's shenanigans now. He scowls.

"How did you meet him ?" continues Eskel, "I was in a bath at an inn when he just casually walked into the room, no knocking, no asking, nothing. I threatened him a bit and when I got back to my bath, he came in again and gave me a bar of soap. I wanted to throw it after him. I didn't smell that bad and it was just rude to imply that I did !"

Lambert laughs, Vesemir chuckles and Geralt smiles. He doesn't think that Jaskier wanted to be rude. He was looking to offer a nice gesture, probably. Geralt knows that he likes to take care of him and he often finds one or two bars of soap, dried fruits or sometimes a jar of jam hidden in his saddlebags a few days after they separate. He never commented on it because he doesn't know what to say but he appreciates the kind gestures.

"Met him last spring", answers Lambert, "I made camp next to Aedirn's border and went hunting. When I came back, I came across this guy doing my laundry in the river and he just snapped. Told me that he didn't want to see me and that I should have thanked him for his nice gesture, like _I_ asked him to do my laundry. Punched him in the nose and the temple after that."

Geralt scowls again when he hears that but he doesn't remember Jaskier being hurt when he saw him again last summer so he is a bit relieved to know that their encounter didn't end up in a blood bath.

"Dropped him next to the fire when he was unconscious and hightailed it out of there. Didn't want to be subjected to another rant when he woke up. Still can't believe I found him doing my laundry... It took two months for my breeches to stop smelling like almonds !"

A new round of chuckles erupts and echoes through the springs.

"But he's harmless, right ?", asks Eskel, "When I met him, he sounded lost and looked like an idiot but he wasn't dangerous. At least I don't think so."

"As far as we can tell, he's harmless", says Lambert shrugging, "he didn't harm anyone and nobody got sent after any of us because of him. He can bring trouble though." He grins wide and continues, "He managed to have Coën be thrown out of a brothel in Vengerberg ! Can you believe it ?"

Geralt snorts because he can believe it, can even picture it. It happened to him a few times. He leans a bit more firmly against Eskel, gets comfortable and listens to Lambert tell an unbelievable tale about Jaskier walking in on a witcher named Coën, a cart full of manure and a small mob looking for the bard, ransacking the brothel and fighting with a naked witcher because his unexpected visitor slept with the wrong person. He smiles and basks in the wonderful feeling of being home, safe and surrounded by people he loves. He'll panic about Jaskier's recklessness later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I made Lambert a gossip and I'm sorry, not so sorry :p


	8. Overbearing Geralt

**Chapter eight : Overbearing Geralt**

  
  


Another year goes by and Jaskier is relieved that winter is fast approaching. He travelled with Geralt all year long and he can't stand him anymore. His friend spent all their journey being weirdly overbearing and Jaskier now longs for some peace. He never thought it would come to the point where _he_ was the one needing space but well, here he is...

It's not that travelling with his friend was bad. He got to visit the north of the continent, as promised, and Geralt was oddly considerate. He shadowed him to several festivals in summer and accompanied him to visit some nobles' courts without much grumbling. He dragged the bard to his hunts and Jaskier would never ever complain about that, it was his dream come true, being allowed to follow Geralt without having to whine or bully his friend first.

But Geralt was also weird. Twice he made them do some long detours to avoid something or someone, but when Jaskier asked, he was met with a scowl and angry silence so he stopped prying. His friend's closed-off face also made several prospective conquests of his flee in a hurry and got them thrown out of some tavers or inns. Jaskier was used to the last one, it was disheartening but unavoidable when you travelled with a witcher.

It wasn't all bad either travelling with Geralt. Their combined presence to fairs or festivals meant Jaskier could highlight the witcher's good characters traits and sing his praises in his presence. It helped greatly to continue to build his reputation back up.

  
  


When the crowd saw Geralt after one or two of his songs, they usually appeared a little less fearful and would sometimes even offer him a good meal or a drink - unless he smiled, that tended to make them uneasy, Geralt seemed incapable of smiling at strangers without snarling a little bit.

  
  


He once even got a flower crown from a little girl whose mother he saved. His face was priceless – a mix between astonishment, longing and fear. Jaskier made fun of him for a few hours because he seemed more afraid of little girls than of monsters but pretended he didn't see Geralt putting one of the flowers in his pocket later in the evening. It was still heart-wrenching to see his friend so unaccustomed to kind gestures.

So really, it wasn't so bad. Except Jaskier spent most of the year sleeping outside and making conversation with himself because his travel companion was as laconic as ever. Geralt got a new annoying habit too. He tried on several occasions to arm Jaskier and the bard wasn't cooperating, much to his friend's displeasure.

It started at the end of spring, after their first big detour. They reached a fairly big town, Jaskier went to a tavern to have a drink and a hot meal that wasn't burnt rabbits on sticks as soon as they crossed the gates. Geralt just disappeared. When he came back, he had a short sword with him. Jaskier debated asking about it but abandonned the idea soon enough seeing as he didn't want to be scolded for his curiosity.

At the next hunt, Geralt left Jaskier with Roach and thrust the sword in his arms without a word. He watched Geralt disappear in the trees completely baffled and tied the sword to one of Roach's saddlebag because he had no idea what to do with it. Geralt didn't say anything about it when he came back but Jaskier saw his furrowed brow.

It took Geralt three more tries before Jaskier snapped and explained to him that he didn't want nor had any use for the damn sword. By himself, on the road, being armed was more a danger than a protection. Being armed meant that you had something valuable to protect and that you weren't afraid of using your weapon. And he wasn't keen on being attacked by bandits while travelling alone. Jaskier had a small dagger hidden in his boot for emergencies and it was enough. He didn't need a sword.

Geralt made a sound of understanding after the rant and Jaskier thought that that would be the end of this nonsense. Unfortunately, Geralt wasn't deterred and continued to try to palm his stupid sword off to him. It infuriated him.

So he was glad to arrive at Ard Carraigh, where he planned to spend his winter away from his grumpy companion. But Geralt decided that they were still early in the season and that Jaskier didn't need to present himself to court yet and dragged him further north with the promise of one last wonderful hunt that would allow him to compose a new ballad over winter. He totally should have refused this offer.

Two weeks later and Jaskier is now regretting all of his life's choices. He is shivering next to a fire, with the damn sword next to him, while Geralt is off in the swamp nearby to slay some drowners. When his friend had talked about an epic last hunt for the season, Jaskier had pictured something else. He promises himself that he is going to ditch Geralt the next day so that he can go back to Ard Carraigh and the promise of a hot bath, a comfortable bed and good food.

  
  


Unfortunately, Geralt insists to accompany him to the nearest settlement, the village they passed a day ago, and when Jaskier enquires about a convoy heading south, he is informed that he has to wait one more day for the next one to depart. And Geralt doesn't seem in a hurry to leave.

  
  


They spend the night together at the only inn of the village and Jaskier becomes really obnoxious. He whistles all evening, hums the funny song he wrote about that one time when Geralt got eaten by a Selkiemore and came back covered in blood and guts, his friend hates that song. They ask for bath, which Jaskier commandeers first, and when the witcher enters it at last, he washes his hair with rose scented soap without asking him and then braids it, which Geralt absolutely loathes.

  
  


He retires to the bed when the growling starts to become very aggressive and flops in the middle of it. When Geralt joins him, he has to push him away and when he is settled, Jaskier comes right back to plaster himself against his back because his friend is a furnace.

  
  


“You know that I like travelling with you, Geralt, really I do”, starts Jaskier after a few seconds of silence, “but I feel like some time apart might do us some good.”

  
  


Geralt grunts and Jaskier continues.

  
  


“The past year has been fantastic but I think I need my space now. And don't try to disagree, I know that I have been grating on your nerves, too. I just don't understand why we didn't spend time apart like the years before, we maybe wouldn't be in this situation now.”

  
  


He waits for an answer that is clearly never coming and sighs.

  
  


“What I'm trying to say here is that maybe, possibly, you might depart tomorrow ? You're headed north, right ?”

  
  


A grunt is the only answer he receives and Jaskier likes to think that he detects a hint of agreement in it.

  
  


“Perfect ! We'll breakfast together tomorrow and then you can leave in peace knowing I'll spend my winter warm in the court of Ard Carraigh. You can fetch me in spring again and we'll see about travelling together. Where would you like to go ?”

  
  


“Fine Jaskier”, sighs Geralt, “Yes, I get it. I'll come back in spring. We'll try Temeria and Kerack maybe.”

  
  


“Wonderful, my dear ! I was afraid I'd have have to sing all night for you to see reason... Goodnight, Geralt.”

  
  


The witcher hums and burrows a little bit more under the thin furs that cover the bed.

  
  


“Goodnight Jaskier”, is the last thing he hears before sleep claims him.

  
  


Jaskier pays for breakfast the next morning and they eat in silence, enjoying the calm. Jaskier sent Geralt ahead of him to the dining hall and used the few moments alone in the room to stick two bars of soap and a little vial of chamomile oil in his saddlebags. He is quite proud of his cunning and relishes his victory over some freshly baked bread.

  
  


Geralt retrieves his bags after breakfast and goes to saddle Roach. Jaskier pets her mane, gives her a piece of carrot he borrowed from the innkeeper and wishes her to travel safely. He then turns to his friend and follows him outside of the stable. They say their goodbyes quietly, clasp hands and Geralt is finally off. Jaskier waits until he can't see him to let out a long relieved sigh, finally a little bit of freedom !

  
  


He goes back inside and spots one of the serving girls tending the bar. He flirts with her and she asks him to play a few love songs. He goes up to his room in order to fetch his lute but is sidetracked by the sight of the _damn sword_ resting innocently on the bed next to a bottle of liquor. _That fucking witcher_ , thinks Jaskier, _incapable of taking a clue. I hope Roach shits on his feet the next time they stop._

  
  


He puts the sword on the only table of the room and goes back downstairs to serenade the lovely maid waiting for him. He manages to entice the woman to his bed in the early afternoon and they spend an enjoyable hour together before she has to go back to her work. Jaskier naps a bit after that and lazes around.

  
  


He goes back downstairs in the evening and meets the two men who will lead the convoy departing in the morning for Ard Carraigh. They are scarred and worn but seem steady and reliable. He pays them a quarter of what he owes them and promises to meet them at the outskirts of the village at dawn the next morning.

  
  


After his transaction is made, he goes to the bar and asks for a light meal and an ale. He is served by a young boy, who he hasn't seen yet, who asks him if he really travels with a witcher. He tells him about some of his adventures with Geralt and soon the boy is smiling and laughing with him. After a lull in the conversation, the boy says that he glimpsed a white-haired witcher in the afternoon, next to the healer's house, and that he saw his horse stabled at the inn earlier.

  
  


Jaskier doesn't stop to think things through, the annoyance about the stupid sword comes back at full force and he goes back upstairs in a hurry. He opens the door to his room and finds it empty, which seems logical if Geralt sensed the smell of sex. Jaskier marches in, picks up the sword and starts to throw open the other doors.

  
  


He finds a couple having fun, two empty rooms and a man in a bath before he wrenches open a fifth door, glances at two swords resting next to the bed and barges in in a hurry.

  
  


“You ! I told you I didn't want to see you before spring !”, he starts, “And you dimwit better have a good explanation about this fucking sword ! How many times do I have to tell you that... Oh, fuck !”

  
  


A cry of pain leaves him as he is disarmed by a, yes white-haired, witcher that isn't Geralt of fucking Rivia. The dagger with which he was attacked nicked his wrist and he massages it while looking at his new host, who just appeared like a fury from behind the bed where he was crouched and probably meditating. It has been a while since Jaskier saw an unfamiliar witcher and he is reminded of why he shouldn't just enter a witcher's room when the dagger is levelled at his throat.

  
  


“What do you want ?”, is growled at him and Jaskier takes a step back.

  
  


The witcher is old, that's why he has white air and not because he is Geralt, has amber eyes that are narrowed and a wolf medaillon like his friend. Jaskier swallows, lifts his hand and remembers the routine he developped to apologize to angry witchers.

  
  


“Sorry. I didn't mean to disturb you. I was looking for someone else. It was an honest mistake that will never ever happen again, you have my word.”

  
  


“Oh crap”, the witcher mutters, “you're the Stalker ?!”.

  
  


It is said in a so disbelieving tone that Jaskier takes offense at it, even if he doesn't know what the man is talking about. The once-over he is given and the grimace that follows don't endear the witcher to him either.

  
  


“I'm not stalking anybody, good sir. I was looking for a friend of mine to give him a piece of my mind but I... stumbled upon the wrong room, completely by accident. It happens. I will now leave you to your lovely evening and I swear that I won't disturb you again, ever.”

  
  


Jaskier scrambles backwards swiftly but still hears the mocking sound the witcher lets out as he retreats and almost falls over in his hurry. Jaskier purses his lips but doesn't say anything even if he wants to correct the rude man.

  
  


He closes the door roughly behind him and yells back at his occupant, “You can keep the damn sword, I don't need it and don't want it.”

  
  


And then he goes back to his room to lament his fate once again and to sleep in prevision of the early morning he is going to be subjected to. He hopes that it is going to be witcher-free.

  
  


* * *

  
  


When Geralt arrives at Kaer Morhen, he only finds Eskel. Lambert hasn't arrived yet and Vesemir went out on an urgent errand but should be back soon, according to his brother.

  
  


They enjoy the fact that they are alone, with no taskmaster breathing behind their backs, to laze around, nap and take long baths in the hot springs. Lambert joins them two days later in a foul mood and it takes him three more days to calm himself.

  
  


Vesemir comes back in the evening, four days after Lambert. Geralt is in the kitchen eating with his brothers when the door is pushed open and their mentor appears. He greets them and deposits his belongings at the end of the table. Between his bags, Geralt spots a short sword, a very familiar short sword, and he despairs internally.

  
  


He did everything he could to keep Jaskier away from other witchers all year. He leaves him for a few days and the bard manages to stumble upon one anyway. It must be fate, he thinks, there's no other explanation possible. He scowls at his plate and starts brooding.

  
  


“I met your Stalker, Lambert”, starts Vesemir after he sat down and Eskel filled a new plate for him, “and you're right, the boy is a bumbling stupid idiot.”

  
  


Lambert grins for the first time since his arrival and they all settle down to hear the tale of the meeting between the Stalker and Vesemir. Geralt despairs when he hears about Jaskier's ire and stupidity but smiles reluctantly all the same because his reactions are exactly what Geralt would have expected of his friend.

  
  


He is still a little bit miffed that the bard found such a quick way to get rid of his gift and hopes the liquor is more to his taste. He'll find a halberd next year, to get back at him for giving his gift away. Jaskier trying to wield it or even just lift it would do for an amusing sight, he muses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I read all your enthusiastic comments with great delight and I'm glad that you like this story, I really like writing it :D
> 
> Enjoy :p


	9. Can't even enjoy an empty cell anymore

**Chapter nine : Can't even enjoy an empty cell anymore**

  
  


Sometimes you think that your situation just can't get any worse and then the Universe or Destiny or whatever decides to prove you wrong and meddles in your life. Jaskier would very much like to say _fuck you and don't bother to interfere again, you bitch_ to this hypothetical higher power because he didn't ask for any of this shit. He would totally have prefered to have a cell for himself.

He ditched Geralt a week ago in the middle of Temeria after he came back from a squirmish with some bandits with a fucking halberd and tried to paw it off to Jaskier with twinkling eyes a small smile playing at his lips.

  
  


Jaskier had raised his arms to the sky and huffed at his friend. He understood that he tried to be funny but they didn't really have the same sense of humour because Jaskier didn't see where he was supposed to laugh. Geralt was infuriating like that.

The witcher spent three days carrying his fucking halberd and exaggeratedly pouting when Jaskier refused the gift. He finally sold it to a blacksmith to the bard's relief. After this stunt, Jaskier decided a little bit of time apart would do them some good. He absolutely refused to live in Geralt's pocket all year long like the last time.

So he let him go north alone to look for some work while he answered the duke and duchess of Palmeir's invitation to play at one of their feasts and to entertain them for a few days. The feast is bright and lively, the guests are delighted by his performance and the duchess can't take her eyes off him. The duke is busy with his noble guests and doesn't notice when Jaskier finally slips away with his wife.

He spends a truly delightful night in her company but is caught with his pants literally off the next morning by a maid who lets out a truly shrill cry. He dresses quickly, kisses the duchess, who is still lounging in the bed, goodbye, runs to his room to retrieve his belongings and plays a game of cat and mouse with the guards looking for him in the corridors of the castle.

Usually it was at this moment that Jaskier would run to Geralt or that his friend would happen upon him per chance. Unfortunately, the witcher isn't present. He manages to get out of the castle without being seen and starts to run towards the gates of the grounds as soon as he clears the doors. Regrettably some guards see him, shouts echo through the courtyard and he is soon being chased by angry men who are displeased to have to exert themselves so soon in the morning.

When it is clear that he won't be able to escape his pursuers, the gates are guarded and he won't make it to the town below the castle to hide, he takes a sharp turn and goes back inside the castle. He hides in an empty room and has just the time to cram his purse and his lockpicking tools in his small clothes, which is very uncomfortable, before he is found.

He relinquishes his belongings to the out-of-breath guards, lets himself be searched - they confiscate his knife - and follows the guards to the hall where the duke holds court. He is relieved to see that there isn't a lot of people present, it is still early for most of the nobility, and gets showed to his knees in front of his host. He winces when he hits the ground and bows his head hoping to appear sheepish.

The duke is so incensed that it is of no use. He is swiftly picked up by two guards and marched down to the dungeons where he is supposed to spend a few days repenting his mistake before being whipped ten times to make the lesson stick.

  
  


He'll only be released when the duke'll be satisfied that the bard is really truly sorry. Jaskier tries to appeal to his honour and mercy but the duke isn't swayed.

Jaskier prays all the way down to the dungeons that Geralt will miraculously appear to save him but alas, he definitely is not in luck today. Once in the dungeons, the guards shackle his hands together and he is brought up to the head warden. He tries to make himself look small and pitiful.

The guards laugh together and he is roughed up a little but it's nothing he can't bear. When the head warden learns that Jaskier is the bard that travels with a witcher, he smiles viciously at him and he is dragged in the dark corridor where the cells are located. They are all full but none of the prisoners spare him a glance.

"Witcher !", bellows the warden as they move ahead in the darkness, "I got you a friend to share your cozy little cell with !"

When he hears the man speak to a witcher, he assumes that he is going to meet Geralt who somehow managed to end up in a dungeon and he despairs even more. But when he looks through the bars of the last cell, it isn't Geralt snarling at the head warden that he finds but the leader of the Caravan of the cat witchers.

  
  


The witcher is sitting bound in one corner of the room and his face sports several bruises. It doesn't stop him from growling threateningly at the guards. And for the first time since he has been caught, Jaskier starts to struggle.

"Oh, no, no, no ! You are not locking me up with him ! I don't deserve it ! I'm an upstanding redanian citizen and I won't share with this... this scoundrel !"

The witcher looks at him at the end of his rant and his snarl morphs into a disbelieving frown before being overtaken by a mocking smile. The guards force him into the cell and shackle one of his feet to a length of chain. The head warden smiles nastily at him and pats his cheek like he would a child, Jaskier barely refrains from biting his hand. The warden then kicks the witcher in the ribs and leaves.

"Try not to kill your new friend, witcher", he bellows as he disappears in the corridor, "the duke wants this one alive a little while longer."

Jaskier and the witcher look at each other in silence for a few seconds. The cat doesn't say anything but his mocking smile doesn't leave his lips either and Jaskier feels judged, which is stupid because what lessons could an imprisonned witcher want to give him ? None which would matter, Jaskier decides, because they are in the same predicament.

"You know," he begins while he sits down, "I don't _plan_ these meetings on purpose. My presence is a total accident, I really don't want to impose. Do you think the warden would let me go if I told him that you find me bothersome ?"

  
  


“I wouldn't bother trying”, the witcher answers pointing to the bruises on his face. “So what is this upstanding redanian citizen doing in this lovely hovel if he is not looking for a witcher to annoy ?”

“Funny story, I'm supposed to spend a few days down here repenting for sleeping with the duke's wife... Not that I plan to do it, mind you, it was too good a night to regret it.”

“So you _are_ a fool, you clearly can't stay away from people who are bad for you. Is that what keeps you going through life ?”

“I have no lesson to receive from you ! We're in the same boat here !”

“Not really the same, if I don't get out of these shackles, I don't.think I'm getting out of this dungeon alive.”

Jaskier frowns and asks, “Why are you here by the way ?”

The witcher gazes intently at him and looks him in the eyes before he starts speaking in a self deprecating tone.

“I got arrested on purpose. I've got an assassination contract on the head warden. Hoped it would be easier to gut him in here. Clearly I was mistaken”

Jaskier gapes.

  
  


“You take contracts on humans ? I thought witchers only hunted monsters !”

“And what would you know about it ?”, the witcher sneers. “If it makes you feel better, he deserves it. People tend to disappear in this dungeon whether the duke orders it or not, if you get my meaning.”

Jaskier understands him perfectly. He doesn't know if it's a good idea to trust the witcher who tried to kill him a few years ago but the warden did look the part of a sadistic asshole so maybe...

“Where's the pissing bucket ?”, asks Jaskier after a moment.

The witcher eyes him weirdly before shrugging.

  
  


“There isn't one, I've been using that corner”, he says pointing to the one next to him right next to the bars.

Jaskier looks on in horror at said corner, where he can barely distinguish humid ground and some strange shapes that he won't think about, and decides here and there that he is getting out of this dungeon immediately. He won't shit and piss in a corner in front of a stranger, nope, he can't do it.

“Okay. Right, that is disgusting.” He pitches his voice lower and begins to bargain. “So if I get you out of these chains, will you get me out of the castle and the town in exchange ?”

“You ? Getting me out of these chains ?”

The witcher rattles his chains meaninfully and the clear disbelief in his voice hurts a little but Jaskier keeps his head up. The manacles on his hands will prove tricky but he is sure that he can open them given a little bit of time.

“Yes, me ! I think that if you could, you would already be out of your shackles, right ? So will you or will you not help me ?”

The witcher contempates his offer and answers carefully.

“If you can keep up.”

Jaskier scoffs, “You better keep up. Can you even walk ?”

  
  


The witcher nods and Jaskier asks him for his word. His cell companion looks amused at the assumption but gives it anyway. Jaskier then rummages in his small clothes and gets out his lockpicking tools. He starts on his ankle and frees himself in a matter of minutes. The manacles take a little bit more time but he disposes of them anyway.

  
  


The witcher almost looks impressed and Jaskier takes his time stretching before going over to his cellmate and starting on his ankles. His chains are sturdier than Jaskier's and they encircle his ankles, wrists and neck and Jaskier wonders at how the witcher managed to reach the corner to do his business. He doesn't ask him though.

  
  


When the man is free, he stretches himself out and hovers behind Jaskier while he deals with the door to their cell. He opens it in a matter of minutes and they slowly creep out. The witcher signals to him to open all the other cells and Jaskier complies without a word and as silently as he can.

  
  


He is on his second door when he hears the first agonised cry, it is followed by four more and then some whimpers. When he arrives at the hall the guards use as theirs, the floor is covered in blood, the head warden's head is bashed in and the witcher is eating bread sitting on the table. The other prisoners pour out behind him and eye the witcher warily.

  
  


Jaskier lets him eat and drink his fill and searches the hall until he finds his belongings. He strokes his precious lute, stows his tools and purse back in his bag and takes a piss before joining his escape companion.

  
  


The witcher collects some blades and his swords from the guards' collection of clearly appropriated objects and they go up the stairs. When they arrive in the castle, they let the prisoners roam free and create a distraction for them.

  
  


They get out of the castle as the first cries of alarm sound. The witcher kills two more guards who are charging him and they are finally out. They sprint for the town and don't stop until they reach the forest. Jaskier shares his waterskin with the witcher when they stop and he gives it back with a nod.

“Well, you're not completely useless then. A nice surprise.”

  
  


Jaskier frowns at him, “You know, it's not because I don't carry several scary looking blades that I can't be useful in other areas.”

  
  


“I'll try to keep it in mind, little stow away.”

  
  


The witcher smiles at him, brushes one of his fingers against the scar on Jaskier's throat and then disappears through the trees without a word.

  
  


“I'm not a stow away, you brainless idiot, it was an accident ! And you can't lecture me on stupidity, mister I'm-getting-arrested-on-purpose-but-can't-get-out-of-the-dungeon. I'll remember that one !”, he bellows after him.

  
  


When he doesn't get an answer, he looks behind him at the town and decides that he would be safer if he got off the middle of the road. He looks at the sun, deduces where the north is and heads this way through the forest. If he's lucky, it'll only be a few days before Geralt finds him and then he can explain to him why they will never ever set foot again on the duke of Palmeir's lands.

That is bound to be a fun conversation. Maybe he can skip it by pretending to be afflicted by amnesia ? Eh, worth a shot, even if it is only to see Geralt's disbelieving and annoyed face. Or he can play the traumatized bard and force his friend to attend to his every whim for a few hours until he lets the cat out of the bag. He could ask the witcher to wash his hair for once or to massage his feet, ohh, such possibilities !

* * *

  
  


After travelling together up to the beginning of summer, Jaskier leaves Geralt again because Yennefer found them in Kerack. After a few days of snipping at each other and of Jaskier hearing her and Geralt having very enthusiastic sex, he decided he had enough and left for Verden.

  
  


He attends some festivals and fairs and travels from one end of the country to the other while avoiding nobles' estates. He doesn't know if news of his dalliance with the duchess of Palmeir made its way this far and so doesn't tempt fate.

  
  


He takes advantage of his time south to collect news and rumors about Geralt's child suprise because it could come in handy one day. He doesn't learn much and debates going to Cintra but finally decides to slowly make his way east to reach Brugge in autumn and try to convince the king to let him spend winter in his court.

  
  


He travels by convoy and is in a tavern in a small town, really more like a big village, in the middle of Verden when he hears about the presence of a witcher. He weighes the pros and cons and finally decides not to seek him out. His previous encounter with the cat witcher in spring was enough for this year.

  
  


His decision made, he chooses to stay at the tavern and performs for the patrons up until late in the evening. When he is done, he plops down on a stool at the bar, asks for an ale and starts flirting with the serving girl. If she is amenable, Jaskier could kill two birds with one stone and combine a pleasurable night with a free bed.

  
  


He gets at the holding hand part of the flirting with the woman and everything is proceeding smoothly when he sees her eyes go wide open at the sight of something behind him. She rips her hand out of his hand and scuttles back to the kitchens.

  
  


Jaskier doesn't have the time to look behind him before two swords are violently slammed on the bar a hairbreadth away from his tankard. He sees a wood chip go flying and lets out an undignified squeek.

  
  


He tries to get off his stool but a heavy hand on his shoulder prevents his escape. When he looks at the intruder, he comes face to face with a witcher. A sadly familiar witcher. It is the angry viper he met a few years back, the one that was injured and is still so bulky Jaskier feels like a dwarf next to him.

  
  


He tries to escape again but the hand on his shoulder doesn't let go and the witcher sits on the stool right next to him. Jaskier struggles a little but to no avail, he can't match a witcher's strength.

  
  


“Right”, he whispers, “Hello to you too. It's been a while since we last saw each other. I'm going to leave now.”

  
  


He tries to step away but the witcher still doesn't let him go. Jaskier looks at him and he meets his eyes but doesn't say anything.

  
  


“Do you want something perhaps ?”

  
  


Still no answer is forthcoming. The witcher doesn't look homicidal so Jaskier doesn't think that he is going to be gutted right at this moment but he doesn't look friendly either, so who knows ? Jaskier tries again.

  
  


“You know communication helps in these cases. Speaking ? Shouting ? Whispering ? Mumbling ?”, his voice takes on a desperate note at the end of his sentence.

  
  


The witcher waves at the serving boy, who took the place of the woman he was flirting with, to bring him an ale and lets Jaskier go. The bard scrambles to his feet, or rather tries to before the hand comes back and he is forced in his seat again.

  
  


Jaskier whimpers but when he steals another glance at the witcher, he thinks that he spots a faint self-satisfied smirk at the edge of his lips and a strange twinkle in his eyes. He feels like a mouse trying to escape a cat and doesn't like the feeling at all.

  
  


The witcher takes a sip from his tankard and lets Jaskier go. The bard rises slowly from the stool but is once again forced back down. He huffs.

  
  


“Okay, I bite, what do you want ?”

  
  


The hand is withdrawn again and the witcher nods pointedly towards Jaskier's ale. The bard picks it up slowly and takes a small sip under the watchful stare of his … drinking companion ? He tries to tip the tankard further up and to gulp the rest of it down quickly but a growl stops him.

  
  


He puts his ale back down and starts to fidget. He drums his fingers on the bar and then on the swords before the witcher slaps his hand away. His feet start to pick up a rhythm on the floor and he breathes in and out slowly and loudly.

  
  


Jaskier then takes another sip of his ale and drinks quietly with the witcher next to him for the next ten minutes. The boy behind the bar looks fearfully at the witcher and glances at Jaskier every so often as if to reassure himself that he is still alive.

  
  


Jaskier is very much still alive albeit very confused. He doesn't understand what the witcher's game is and it puts him on edge. When he swallows the last drop of his ale, he deposits the tankard on the bar carefully and gets up. The witcher doesn't drag him back down so he picks up his lute and his bag, skirts around the witcher and heads for the door.

  
  


He takes three steps before a gravelly voice makes him freeze.

  
  


“Not that nice to be barged in on now ?”

  
  


When Jaskier turns back to look at the witcher, the man sports a mean smile on his face. He raises his tankard to him before finishing it in one big gulp and shattering it on the bar all the while looking straight in Jaskier's eyes. Jaskier flinches when he hears the glass break but it is nothing on the scream the boy behind the bar lets out.

  
  


The other patrons all turn towards them and eye the witcher warily. Jaskier sees some swords being taken out of their scabbards and lets out a long sigh.

  
  


“You're a real piece of work, you know ?”, he says in the heavy silence of the tavern. “I apologized for our last meeting.”

  
  


The witcher shrugs, turns back towards the bar to order a new drink and Jaskier flees while his back is turned. As soon as he is outside, he rests his hands on his knees and breathes hard. He is maybe a little bit hyperventilating. When he hears the conversations pick up again in the tavern and feels calm enough, he heads to the only inn of the settlement to book a room.

  
  


Once he is settled, he bars the door, sticks a chair in front of it for good measure, closes the shutters and blows out every candle. He then crawls under thin sheets, curls himself up into a tight ball, exhales a long breath into his knees and tries not to think about the witcher. He is hyper aware of every creek around him and only falls asleep several hours later after reciting the name of all his ancestors in his head.

  
  


He stays in bed the next day and when he finally emerges from his room in the evening, he learns that the witcher left the village last night. He exhales slowly and curses the damn man for the fright he gave him, even if he thinks that he understands now what he put the witchers through all these years. Or well, something like it, it is hard to imagine the viper trembling in fright and unable to sleep because of the visit of a strange enthusiastic human.

  
  


Anyway this encounter joins the list of things he doesn't want to talk about ever again and he locks it tight in a corner of his brain to be forgotten or at least to be buried under enough crap that he won't have to think about it again. He puts himself back together over a hearty meal and resolves to find a convoy the next day to continue on his way to Brugge. He longs for civilization and polite company all of a sudden.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And Letho comes back in force :D


	10. Creepy witchers are being creepy

**Chapter ten : Creepy witchers are being creepy**

  
  


After a calm winter in Brugge and a spring spent travelling through Sodden with Geralt, Jaskier abandons his friend when Yennefer finds them again. He stays long enough to exchange a few mean quips with the sorceress and watch Geralt roll his eyes at them before he takes his leave.

  
  


He decides to go north, cross Temeria and stop in Wyzima before heading to Redania to go visit the royal court of Tretogor. With a little luck, the king will have heard about the new redanian bard making a name for himself across the continent and will invite him to stay all winter and perform for the court.

  
  


Jaskier is one week into Temeria and performing at a crowded tavern when he spots men in the duke of Palmeir's livery entering said establishment. He misses a step, almost falls down from the table where he is perched and pales dramatically fast. He finishes his song, evades the patrons' hands that try to waylay him and runs through the back door into the early evening.

  
  


He doesn't know if the guards spotted him, or if they recognized him, but he is not taking any chances. He leaves the town hungry but swiftly and spends his night in the dark in a small clearing in a copse of trees a few hours away from the settlement.

  
  


He travels alone for a few more days and sees no signs of pursuit so when he comes by a village with an inn, a week after his hasty departure from the last town, he stops there. He secures a contract for three nights of performing at the only inn of the settlement and is offered his meals for free in exchange. He still has to pay for the room but, tired as he is, he accepts the deal without complaints anyway.

  
  


The first two evenings are uneventful, he sings, dances and flirts with all the pretty women he sees and he naps his days away. He decides to visit the butcher on the third day to buy some dried meat and the old woman who serves as healer and herborist to replenish his stash of tea.

  
  


It is as he is hesitating between buying a verbena tea or a chamomile one that another customer comes in and begins exchanging news with the old woman. He can't avoid eavesdropping and learns that a witcher just arrived in the village and booked a room at the inn. Jaskier then apologizes for interrupting them and asks if the aforementioned witcher is white haired. The man looks at him weirdly and tells him that his hair is brown.

  
  


Jaskier thanks him, buys the verbena tea and wonders if he should leave the town. He then decides that he has done nothing that would force him to leave in a hurry and just vows to himself not to disturb the witcher. He remembers the lesson the angry bulky viper tried to pass on and doesn't want to be on the receiving end of another disastrous meeting.

  
  


He slowly makes his way back to the inn, goes up to his room to rest before his evening performance and then readies himself when the time comes for him to entertain the inn's patrons. He takes a quick meal in the slowly filling dining hall and climbs on a table when the crowd starts calling for him.

  
  


Tonight the crowd is in a mood for funny songs and as the ale continues to flow, the patrons ask for more and more bawdy ones. Jaskier obliges them and smiles and laughs and leers as is demanded by his performance. He has to take a break after two hours though, to answer nature's call, and excuses himself to join the courtyard where he can find a place to piss in peace.

  
  


He takes his time outside, rests a little against a wall and is disturbed by a newcomer after a few moments. The man goes to a corner to relieve himself and when he turns back around, Jaskier spots the colours of the Palmeir family on his guard uniform. The guard frowns at him and Jaskier sees the exact moment that he recognizes him. He doesn't wait for him to issue a command. He bolts.

  
  


He crosses the dining hall in a hurry, barely pausing to snatch his lute, gets out the front door and by the time he can hear the urgent cries from the guards, he has passed two streets. He abandons a colorful handkerchief in a small alleyway and doubles back carefully towards the inn. He scales a wall to enter the courtyard in the back and enters the inn gingerly. The crowd hasn't quietened down and he goes through it quickly with his head down.

  
  


He tries to climb up to his room when he spots two guards and the fucking _duke_ himself walking down the stairs. He hides behind a pillar in a dark corner waiting for them to go away. He curses when he spots his purse in the duke's hand and realizes that he'll need a new safe place to spend the night if he doesn't want to get caught and then probably beaten by the noble's men.

  
  


His first thought is for the witcher before he remembers that he promised himself that he wouldn't disturb him. He thinks about his options and really wishes he hadn't developped a reflex of associating witcher with safety. He blames Geralt for that one.

  
  


When he sees the duke speaking with the innkeeper and offering him Jaskier's own purse, he thinks _fuck him_ and dashes upstairs quickly when everyone's backs are turned. He finds his room ransacked, and doesn't that bring memories back from Vengerberg, collects everything that can be salvaged and decides to take his chances with the witcher. With some luck, it is one he already met and who wasn't so bad. He'd take the cat leader over the duke's guards anyday.

  
  


He enquired earlier about the room the witcher was given, just so that he knew not to open it - it really was his intention, he swears it on his lute ! -, stops in front of it, knocks quickly, doesn't wait for an answer and enters it. He closes the door behind him and places a chair in front of it - because of course there isn't any bar, when has his life ever been easy ? – and finally lets himself look at the witcher.

  
  


“Uh”, he says cleverly.

  
  


The witcher wears a cat medaillon but is an unfamiliar one, which shouldn't be possible because Jaskier could swear he already met all the witchers left alive, or at least it seems so to him after all his misadventures.

  
  


The witcher is sitting cross-legged on the bed and is looking at him weirdly. It unnerves Jaskier a bit that the man hasn't threatened him yet. Jaskier gazes at him, he is lithe, looks like a walking armoury with all the daggers strapped across his body and a smile plays across his lips.

  
  


“Oh, I was waiting for you.”, drawls the witcher.

  
  


_That_ scares Jaskier because he doesn't know this witcher at all and why would he be waiting for him ? He debates running out of the room and takes a step back when he hears heavy footsteps climbing up the stairs, cries echoing through the inn and he dives under the bed with all his belongings but not before saying hurriedly :

  
  


“Sorry to disturb you. Please hide me !”

  
  


He doesn't get an answer and a few seconds later the door rattles and the witcher gets up to open it. Jaskier closes his eyes and prays that everything will be fine. He hears the guards ask the witcher if he saw someone come into his room and the man denies it. Jaskier breathes a little bit easier.

  
  


The guards try to force their way into the room but the witcher doesn't move, even when he gets insulted. Jaskier hears him draw one of his blades and the guards leave after that. The door is closed again, the chair put before it and then the bed dips. Jaskier feels the matress press down on him and when he opens his eyes, he sees two cat like ones staring at him upside down from the bed.

  
  


“You can come out, you know”, the witcher says in an amused tone.

  
  


Jaskier gets out from under the bed slowly and sits down on the floor with his back against a wall. The witcher looks at him with his head slightly coked and the bard feels trapped. The man gets down from the bed, gets closer and crouches in front of him, still with no weapons in his hands. Jaskier starts sweating.

  
  


“You're exactly like what I heard,” the witcher continues in an awed tone, “I was waiting for your visit. I'm Aiden by the way.”

  
  


“Nice to meet you, Aiden”, whispers Jaskier warily. He doesn't know what to make of this witcher and tries to remember if he ever saw him. “Were you a part of the caravan when I happened upon them ?”

  
  


“No. I wasn't with them when you visited but I heard about you. I've wanted to meet you for a few years now, heard everything about your exploits from the others and wanted to experience the sensation of meeting you in person ! I can't say that I am disappointed.”

  
  


And the witcher smiles sharply at him again. Jaskier is unnerved, he doesn't understand why witchers would be talking about him – and the fact that witchers talk to each other is news to him, because Geralt is an antisocial grump and Jaskier assumed all witchers were like him – and wonders if he should be afraid. Is there a list of people witchers should avoid at all cost ? Kill when given the chance ? Kidnap and use as bait ? By Melitele, he is panicking.

  
  


He scrambles to his feet, hugs his lute tight and heads for the door. The witcher lets him pass but looks confused and asks, “Where are you going ? These men are still looking for you outside. You could spend the night here, I don't bite !”

  
  


And that uncomfortable feeling is back. The witcher keeps smiling and is _nice_ , it must be a trap. A witcher isn't nice with a stranger, it's a rule of this universe. Even Geralt wasn't nice to him when they first met, he punched him in the gut !

  
  


If he spends his night here, he's sure that he is going to end up sacrificied to... - he doesn't know but whatever – so that he won't be able to annoy witchers by stumbling upon them ever again. And okay, maybe that is why the witchers are speaking about him between one another, to make him disappear. Oh, he hates his life.

  
  


“No, thank you. I'll just go and let you rest in peace. Sorry for the disturbance and thank you for hiding me.”

  
  


He smiles back carefully at the creepy witcher and opens the door. He looks left and right, strains his ears but doesn't hear a sound and lets out a shriek that he tries to muffle against his hand when he feels the witcher breathing against his neck.

  
  


“The inn is empty and I can't hear them anymore”, is whispered next to him, “they must have moved on but I'd wait a few hours to make a run for it. They are bound to search the village first before moving on.”

  
  


Jaskier gulps, waits for the witcher to grab him, like the last viper did, and force him back into the room but when nothing happens, he takes a step forward and leaves quickly without looking back. He goes to the stables, finds a nice spot full of hay where he plops down, repairs his bag as best as he can and falls asleep cradling his lute.

  
  


If he wakes up in the morning – later than intended - and lets out an undignified shriek because the creepy witcher is sitting next to him, watching him sleep with a weird smile, well nobody will never know, he won't speak about it. He leaves the village at a run and vows to never seek out another witcher ever again, unless he is sure that it is Geralt, because they are being weird and creepy lately and Jaskier just can't deal with it.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Geralt finds Jaskier drowning his sorrows in alcohol at the border between Temeria and Redania in the middle of summer. He joins him in his bender and they spend their first night being reunited drinking a truly frightening amount of booze. The next morning isn't fun, at all.

  
  


Geralt accompanies him all the way to Tretogor, or really up until the last village before the town, and leaves him again to go east. They promise to meet come spring near Murivel again and say their goodbyes after a last night spent drinking and then visiting a brothel.

  
  


Jaskier arrives in Tretogor a day later and learns that the king isn't in residence, he left to visit Novigrad and is scheduled to come back two weeks later. Jaskier nods at the castellan, asks him to relay his greetings to the king as soon as possible and goes to find a respectable establishment where he'll be allowed to perform for room and board.

  
  


The first tavern he comes across serves as an inn too and they accept him gladly. He plays for the patrons every night and his new purse starts to fatten again. He earns enough to buy a few new outfits to replace the ones destroyed in spring and his mood improves drastically.

  
  


On the third week, he hears from the castellan again, who orders him to present himself in court the next day at noon. He'll be expected to entertain the royal family for the midday meal and his performance will be the test by which he'll be judged and possibly earn his place for the winter in the redanian court.

  
  


He's delighted by the news of his impending court performance and sings a bit less on the evening before it to rest his vocal chords. He makes up for the decrease in singing by playing and dancing more and ends up at the center of an unexpected organized ball at the end of the night.

  
  


He stops playing in the middle of the night, downs one last watered down ale and heads up to bed tired but content. He's not worried about court, he's sure everything will be alright, but he longs for a bed and a good night's sleep.

  
  


He enters his room, leans his lute against the wall, locks the door, fumbles in the dark to find a few logs to throw in the fire and is stopped in his endeavour when he collides with a firm chest covered in armor. He pets it, finds a witcher medaillon embossed with a viper's symbol and recoils as if burned.

  
  


“I wouldn't scream if I were you”, is the whispered sentence that makes his stomach tightens.

  
  


The voice doesn't sound like the one from the viper he met last year and he doesn't remember having heard it before. He swallows convulsively and takes a few steps back until he hits the bed. He sits down heavily on it with his heart racing.

  
  


He hears the witcher pick up a log and throw it in the hearth. The fire burns brighter and Jaskier can finally discern the man before him. Bald head, cat like eyes and a smirk on his face. He reminisces a little bit and remembers that he met him a few years back in a stable in Aedirn. Jaskier clears his throat.

  
  


“Right, um, yes, I remember you. A stable in Aedirn. To what do I owe the pleasure ?”

  
  


The witcher doesn't answer him, just hands him a tankard of beer, and leans against a wall with his own glass and a smirk on his lips. Jaskier sniffs the drink and wonders if it is poisonned. His gesture makes the witcher widen his smirk and the bastard takes a long deliberate gulp of his own drink. He's baiting him and it drives Jaskier mad because he can't discern what the man wants.

  
  


Jaskier finally closes his eyes and takes a sip of his beer. Nothing happens. His heart keeps racing, his fingers pull at the blanket beneath him and he looks left and right trying to see if the witcher booby-trapped his room or robbed him or something. He doesn't spot anything out of the ordinary and takes another sip from his drink.

  
  


The witcher finishes his tankard first and comes closer. Jaskier scrambles backwards on the bed until his back is to the headboard. He watches attentively as his guest takes a seat on the bed and unsheathes one his swords. He takes out a whetstone from one of his pockets too and begins to sharpen his blade. His smirk doesn't leave his face.

  
  


Jaskier boggles at him and his heart speeds up again. He is wondering if he should take the gesture as a threat and if he has a chance of getting out of the room alive if the witcher really wants him dead. He then wonders what he could have done to deserve a death by witcher and his mind goes blank. He's almost sure he hasn't done anything lately to warrant an execution.

  
  


So he continues to drink his beer slowly under the watchful eyes of his uninvited guest. When he swallows the last drops, the witcher rises, takes the tankard back and drops it on the table, next to his own. He resheathes his sword, puts his whetstone away and heads for the window. He opens it, smirks at Jaskier one last time and jumps out.

  
  


Jaskier approaches the window slowly and looks outside. He doesn't spot a splattered witcher on the pavement and lets out a long sigh. He closes the blinds and the window and slides down the wall next to it. _What the fuck was that ?_ is the only thought he can manage before he devolves in hysteric laughter and pulls on his hair.

  
  


It takes him a few minutes to calm down. He goes to the fire and puts a new log in it, changes his clothes into something comfortable for sleeping in and finally curls up tight under the covers. He wishes Geralt were here to offer the feeling of safety that comes with him. For lack of his friend, he hugs his knees and breathes slowly until his heart calms down.

  
  


He's still too keyed-up to go to sleep though and decides to recite all the names of the kings of Redania in chronological order starting backwards. He whispers them aloud because the sound of his voice is comforting and falls asleep in the middle of his list.

  
  


* * *

  
  


It takes two weeks for Lambert to give Geralt a headache this winter. He is once again lounging in the hot springs beneath Kaer Morhen with his two brothers and Vesemir when the subject of Jaskier, or the Stalker as he is known to the other witchers, comes up.

  
  


“We started a new game. It's called “Stalk the Stalker,” Lambert explains with a manic smile on his stupid face.

  
  


Geralt closes his eyes and submerges himself in the pool instead of growling out loud. He stays in the water for a few seconds and doesn't listen to Eskel's and Lambert's discussion. Unfortunately, they aren't finished when he comes up again and Vesemir eyes him with a contemplative frown. _Fuck,_ if he is not careful, he'll have to explain himself. He shivers.

  
  


“But why would you want to drop in unannounced on the Stalker ?”, Eskel asks, “I thought that we all wanted to avoid him.”

  
  


Lambert shrugs.

  
  


“Letho started it, he says that it's funny to watch the man squirm. And you have to admit that it's a damn good way to pay him back for the fucking trauma of having him impose himself on you.”

  
  


Eskel and Vesemir snort and smile at that. Geralt just wonders when all of this nonsense with Jaskier and the witchers will end. He scowls and shoots a dark look at the water, he can already feel that he'll have to deal with a clingy bard when they'll reconvene in spring.

  
  


He hates all the other witchers, none of them think about the consequences of their acts and it'll be up to him to deal with the aftermath. He doesn't want an overly clingy bard, he just wants his normal, non traumatized friend, is that too much to ask ? Unaware of his internal musing, Lambert continues.

  
  


“We're keeping score too and playing by school teams so you better make a damn effort, we're already behind the fucking vipers. Letho and Auckes got there first.”

  
  


“Playing ?”, wonders Eskel dubiously. “Who got that stupid idea ? And what's the prize ?”

  
  


“Aiden suggested it, Auckes and I seconded it. So now it's been accepted and the information is making its way down the grapevine. And no fucking prize, just the deep satisfaction of being able to brag about your achievements in front of the others.”

  
  


“You know that Coën is starting with a bit of an handicap,” remarks Geralt sensibly, “beeing the last from his school.”

  
  


“Well he's not going to end up last,” shrugs Lambert, “Crane and Manticore are in the running for the last place.”

  
  


“Lambert,” says Eskel slowly, “there isn't any Crane or Manticore witchers left.”

  
  


“Yeah, and that's why freaking Coën won't be last. Smart right ?”

  
  


“You know, Lambert,” intervenes Vesemir, “sometimes I wonder if you weren't dropped once too often on your head as a child.”

  
  


“The answer to that is probably yes and it's totally your fucking fault”, snarks Lambert.

  
  


“So if Crane and Manticore are in the running, who's going to end up last ?”, asks Eskel with a shit-eating grin.

  
  


Geralt despairs silently and wonders why Eskel decided to humor Lambert. They probably should have just ignored him, he wouldn't have to listen to such nonsense now. And anyway, he's pretty sure that he can win this game on his own what with the many times he happens upon Jaskier by chance in a year. Not that anyone needs to know that.

  
  


Lambert ponders Eskel's question for a few seconds like he needs the time to really make a decision. He finally shakes his head decisively and says :

"Crane. One of them tried to kill Aiden years ago. That gives them an automatic penalty and they can start with a negative score. That'll teach them.”

  
  


Geralt boggles at his brother because he sounds fucking serious and wonders if this is really his life or if he's dreaming.

  
  


“You can't just decide that on your own !”, grumbles Eskel. “Or can you ?”

  
  


“No. I need two people to second my choice so that it becomes official.”

  
  


“Then I say that the Manticore should be last”, announces Eskel with a wide grin.

  
  


Lambert splashes him for it and the water hits Vesemir and Geralt too. Geralt scowls at him and seconds Eskel's motion just to be contrary. Vesemir follows their lead. Geralt then has the pleasure to watch Lambert splutter and try to explain that they can't while pointing threateningly at them.

  
  


“That's... you can't do that ! You didn't even know the grapevine existed three years ago !”

  
  


“Yes, we can. We're witchers after all and if a rule applies to you then it applies to me too,” Eskel says smugly.

  
  


Geralt watches a pleased smirk forming on Eskel's lips while he crosses his arms over his chest defiantly. He exchanges a glance with Vesemir who is shaking his head fondly at the two idiots' antics.

  
  


“You can't,” Lambert grumbles, “a motion is only accepted if it is proposed and then seconded by three witchers from three different schools.”

  
  


“You just made that up !”, Eskel protests.

  
  


“Nope,” Lambert smirks, “the rule was added some time ago because the cats were being assholes. And it's going to be easier for me to pass my motion than for you, you old antisocial grump !”

  
  


Eskel splashes Lambert in retaliation. Geralt knows that his younger brother is probably right, and Eskel must be aware of it too, but neither of them will give their brother the satisfaction of hearing them admit that he is right. Lambert is preparing a counter attack when Vesemir snaps. Geralt is grateful, he wasn't looking forward to weather the tsunami Lambert was readying.

  
  


“Stop it you two. The hot springs aren't made for roughhousing, if you want to act like younglings, take it outside.”

  
  


Eskel grins at Vesemir and winks at Lambert before slumping back against the edge of the pool. Lambert glares at them all and starts to sulk. Geralt can't help but smile. He feels like this winter is going to be great.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And gossip Lambert and the grapevine are back!!


	11. I can't get rid of you

**Chapter eleven : I can't get rid of you**

  
  


Another winter goes by, Geralt comes back in spring, Jaskier hugs him tight and then they go after a dragon in summer. For someone who doesn't like using his words, Geralt can still efficiently eviscerate a man with them.

  
  


And okay, Jaskier maybe shouldn't have pushed right after Yennefer stormed off, he can usually discern well enough when to leave Geralt alone to calm down and made a mistake here, but he sure as hell doesn't deserve such anger being thrown at him.

He frowns at his friend, tells him that he isn't being fair, because _he_ didn't ask for the law of surprise and most of the time he doesn't quite understand what is happening between Geralt and Yennefer.

  
  


But he agrees, in the privacy of his mind, that he has held a small role in the shitshow that has become his friend's life - he _did_ drag Geralt to Cintra after all and well, he tried to tug the djinn from his friend's hands because he was annoyed and drunk - and he plans to acknowledge these actions out loud and offer a placating apology for them, again, as soon as his friend gets his head out of his ass and apologizes first.

To let Geralt collect his thoughts, he goes to Borch, Véa and Téa and asks them about the events he missed. He then joins the dwarves and only keeps one hear on their conversation because he is off in his own mind composing a new bittersweet ballad. He follows them down the mountain and it's only at midday that he notices that Geralt is several paces behind them, with an angry scowl still on his face.

Jaskier waits until they are back in town to siddle up to the witcher. He doesn't even get a word out before Geralt elbows him out of his way with a grunt. Jaskier can only watch his back in complete befuddlement because, usually, at this point of their argument one of them is ready to apologize.

He orders a tankard of ale at the bar and is flirting with one of the serving girls when he spots Geralt coming down from his room with his belongings and heading out. He abandons his glass, runs past the girl and watches his friend saddle Roach. He frowns, goes back up to retrieve his own bag and when he comes back down, Geralt is nowhere to be seen. _Fuck_ , he thinks, _the bastard really just left without me_. He gets outrageously drunk that night.

He is sick in the morning and regrets his choice of coping mechanism. But when the day goes by and Geralt doesn't come back, Jaskier starts to get angry. It isn't the first time they fight, or that they need time apart, but it's the first time one of them just runs away without an apology or a word about coming back.

  
  


And even if Geralt likes to pretend that they are not friends, Jaskier knows deep down that they are. Nobody spends more than a decade travelling with a simple acquaintance or worse an annoyance. And the way he is being treated right now ? It's not how you behave towards a friend and it infuriates him.

He hops on the next convoy leaving town and which is headed south. He stays with its people for a week and decides on a whim to stay in a small town on their path He waves goodbye to his travel companions and goes in search of a tavern. He enters the first one he sees and the first person he spots is Geralt sitting in a corner brooding and glaring at his drink.

Jaskier is still angry but decides to go make his presence known to him anyway. He takes the chair in front of his friend and is met with a glare. Geralt purses his lips, glares some more, frowns, drinks the last of his beer and leaves without a word. Again Jaskier is left to stare at an empty space in utter befuddlement.

"Unbelievable", he whispers to himself.

He performs for the tavern's customers that night and gets completely drunk afterwards. He wakes up the next morning with his cheek stuck to the bar of the tavern in a puddle of alcohol and drool. One of the serving girls is staring at him in disgust. He asks for breakfast and leaves the town on foot and alone in the afternoon.

The next two taverns he goes to refuse to employ him because he looks and smells like a homeless person. He loses some of his cheer again and gets outrageously drunk twice more. A day after his fourth bender, Jaskier decides that Geralt and his frienship aren't worth his pining and he finally washes himself, does some laundry, perfumes himself and lo and behold, he finds a contract for a performance the same evening in a middle-sized settlement.

Jaskier stays in that village two more days before leaving with another convoy, headed east this time. He stops in a village with only one inn but the owner is happy to offer him board and room for three days against the promise of a lenghty performance each night.

  
  


On the second night, while he is dancing on a table surrounded by enthusiastic young people, he sees the establishment's door open and close just as suddenly. He only has enough time to glimpse white hair and yellow eyes and of course Geralt had to find him in the middle of knowhere. He debates going after him but a woman grabs his arm and twirls around him laughing and he stays right where he is.

This pattern repeats itself at least once a week for the next three months. He spots Geralt or Geralt spots him and the witcher frowns or glares at him and leaves without a word. Jaskier isn't even following him, he just goes where the next convoy takes him, and he is pretty sure that Geralt isn't following him either. It seems that he is bound to stumble only on the white haired witcher for now. At least his everyday life is now devoid of other weird creepy scary witchers.

The end of summer and the beginning of autumn are kind to him. He attends several harvest's festivals, some fairs and is even hired to perform at two weddings. His purse fattens up again, he eats well and has company almost every night. He couldn't be happier. Well, he could be, if his stubborn friend would deign to speak to him again instead of avoiding him like the plague.

Things come to a head three months after that fateful hunt in the mountains, when he literally stumbles upon Geralt, or rather Geralt's arm. He goes away from the last convoy he is travelling with to relieve himself behind a tree and finds his unconscious friend with a fresh gash on his left side and plenty of scrapes and bruises.

Jaskier rolls his eyes, because of course if he has to find an unconscious witcher, it has to be Geralt when the man clearly doesn't want anything to do with him. He asks the leader of the convoy if he would be amenable to take on an injured witcher but the man categorically refuses.

  
  


And then Jaskier finds himself alone in a copse of trees with an unconscious witcher and no idea if said witcher managed to kill the monster he was looking for before he decided to take a fucking nap. He hates his life sometimes.

He leans Geralt against a tree, checks his pulse -weak but steady -, is happy to see that the wound is only bleeding sluggishly, presses one of his old shirts to said wound and then wanders around trying to find Roach and his friend's camp.

  
  


But first he stumbles upon the mangled, eviscerated corpse of... something that has to be the monster. Jaskier is glad that he does, even if the sight is disgusting, because now he can stop fretting about getting eaten by it.

  
  


He finally finds Roach, after a five minutes walk, in a small clearing not too far from a stream. Jaskier pets her mane, takes her saddlebags off and lets his bag and his lute fall to the ground.

He goes to the stream, fills his waterskin with fresh water and treks back to Geralt. He'll have to drag his friend to the camp, because he is under no illusion that he can carry the witcher, and just imagining the task ahead makes him wince.

Geralt is still alive and breathing shallowly when he comes back. He divests him of his swords and armor, grabs him under his arms and starts to pull.

The journey is a long and harrowing one and according to him, the less said about it, the better. When the witcher is finally laid down next to Roach, Jaskier is panting, out of breath and tired. Geralt sports a few new bruises, some twigs and leaves in his hair, from when Jaskier had to pull him by the feet for a few yards, and he probably collected some splinters. Jaskier checks his pulse again, still weak but still reassuringly steady, and then he collects some wood and starts a fire.

Finally, with everything ready, he can turn his attention to his friend. He takes his shirt off and grimaces when he sees his chest, it is not a pretty sight. He washes his hands, wets a rag and starts to clean Geralt. He finds two more wounds that need stitching along with the gruesome gash.

Jaskier gets his sewing kit out of his bag, puts the needle through the flames a few times, selects a new clean thread and starts to stitch. He grimaces through the whole process, because he hates it, but carries on anyway. He learned to heal minor injuries and to stitch wounds the winter after his second year travelling with Geralt and, unfortunately, it came in handy a few times already. He never regretted his decision though.

As soon as he is finished, he pours some water down his friend's throat, bandages him and lays him down on top of a pile of garments and under Roach's blanket.

When he has done all he can, he fetches Geralt's bag and puts it right next to him to rummage trough when he wakes and to select which potions to drink. That is an area where Jaskier is still completely clueless.

He then gets up, goes to the stream to wash his hands and refill the waterskin. He goes back to where he found Geralt to bring back his swords and armor, which fortunately haven't been stolen in the meantime. When he comes back, he brushes Roach and takes her saddle and briddle away to let her graze comfortably, collects more firewood and finally searches his bag for a bit of dried meat to eat. He falls asleep next to Geralt and his last coherent thought is a prayer for the witcher's life.

  
  


Geralt is still unconscious when Jaskier awakes and he pours more water down the throat of his friend. His pulse is a little bit stronger and he takes it as a sign that his healing abilities are at work. 

He rummages through the witcher's pack and makes an inventory of their supplies. They are low on food and Jaskier can't hunt for shit so he hopes that Geralt will wake up soon and be at least coherent enough to stay up on Roach until they can reach the next village.

After checking the witcher's injury for the third time in fifteen minutes, Jaskier huffs, takes his lute out and starts strumming. He doesn't sing but the music is comforting.

He is halfway through his eleventh song when his companion finally decides to move. Geralt squirms a little, his hands come up to his side and when he opens his eyes, he looks straight at the bard.

“Jaskier”, he says in a flat tone of voice.

“Geralt”, he replies with the same intonation.

The witcher then sits up with a grimace, looks through his bag, selects a vial, downs his content in one go and goes back to sleep. _Typical_ , Jaskier thinks, _so typical_. No apology, no word of thanks, no nothing, sometimes he wonders why he decided to befriend this lummox of a man.

He is starting to get irritated again and sprawls on the ground to take a well deserved nap. He wakes up shivering in the dark with Geralt looking at him. He gets up, stretches and throws some more wood in the fire. He has his back turned when Geralt speaks again.

“Jaskier. Thank you.”

“Well, you're welcome. Do you want something to drink ? To eat ? I'm afraid you have the choice between dried meat and oh, dried fruit.”

“Jaskier, I'm sorry.”

The bard finally turns back to Geralt and points a finger at him before saying :

“ _You_ are going to have to do better than that, you oaf, far better. A single sorry would have been enough the first two days but with three months worth of avoiding me, you are going to have to grovel at my feet !”

Jaskier sees Geralt wince and thinks, _good, that'll teach him a lesson_. He hands the waterskin to the witcher, then some meat and finally sits down next to him. He gestures at him expectantly. Geralt sighs but starts talking anyway and even looks at him while he is at it.

“Jaskier, I'm sorry. What I said to you was unfair and I should know better than to blame others for my own shortcomings by now. I was angry at myself, at Yennefer, and you bore the brunt of my ire.”

  
  


It's a start, a pretty good one even. Jaskier crosses his arms over his chest and gestures at him to continue. Geralt swallows audibly and nods.

  
  


“And I'm sorry for avoiding you. It was childish and a mark of disrespect to you and our... our friendship. Because even if I try to deny it, I know that we are friends and I'm sorry for hurting you.”

  
  


“See, that wasn't so bad and you're only three months late. You're forgiven by the way but I expect a few more gifts and nice gestures in the weeks to come. And next year, you can accompany me to some courts, possibly to Vengerberg, I might need your help there.”

  
  


Geralt closes his eyes, gets back down on the ground and lets out a long sigh.

  
  


“And I'm sorry too, by the way. I also have a, _rather small_ I might add, part of responsibility in the shitshow that is your life. I'll try not to get you involved in some new nefarious plots.”

  
  


“The problem with you, Jaskier, is that you never mean to end up in trouble but trouble always find you anyway.”

  
  


“That's not my fault !”, Jaskier splutters.

  
  


“Don't make promises you can't keep.”

  
  


Jaskier lays back down too, wonders idly why he didn't think to unpack the bedrolls, decides that he doesn't want to get up to fetch them, and steals a corner of Geralt's blanket.

  
  


“We need to go to town tomorrow, we're low on food supplies.”

  
  


Geralt hums and isn't that a comforting sound, he missed it.

“I still have three weeks left, a month at best, to start to make it up to you, before I need to head up north. Do you know where you plan to spend your winter ?”

  
  


Jaskier thinks about it, shrugs and finally says, “I didn't really think about winter. I think I'll go to Redania. One of my sisters got married last year and she's expecting a baby. I'll visit her and spend the winter doting on my new niece or nephew.”

  
  


“You have a sister ?”, asks Geralt incredulously.

  
  


“Two and a younger brother who inherited my title after I renounced it.”

  
  


“So you're not really a viscount anymore.”

  
  


“Aha, born a viscount, live a viscount, die a viscount, Geralt. The rest is just technicalities, my dear friend. I can't believe I told you about my title and not about my family. I'll take you home with me one of this days and introduce you.”

  
  


The hum he gets in response is a little bit on the hesitant side. Jaskier supposes that's fair, Geralt doesn't like meeting new people and he probably doesn't want to hurt him again so soon after their reconciliation. Jaskier is pretty sure that if he is obstinate enough though, he might eventually wear him down.

  
  


“I've got two brothers”, Geralt says clearly but softly in the night.

  
  


Jaskier is flummoxed. It's the first time that Geralt volunteers a bit of private information, he can't just let it go.

  
  


“Really ?”, he asks excitedly, “It's the first time you mention them ! What are they called ? You're speaking about witchers, right ? Do you see them often ? Can I meet them ?”

  
  


Geralt, the bastard, just hums contentedly and doesn't answer.

  
  


“Geralt, my dear, darling, you can't just let slip that kind of information and expect me to leave it at that ? Geralt ? Geralt ? Answer me ! I want to know more.”

  
  


His sentence ends in a whine but the witcher doesn't relent. He's infuriating like that. Jaskier will have to dig and chip and drill at his friend's walls to learn more, he can already feel how this is going to be one of the most exhausting work he has taken on in his entire life.

  
  


“Just go to sleep, Jaskier, we have a long day ahead of us tomorrow.”

  
  


Jaskier presses his hand against Geralt's lips and sure enough, the bastard is smiling faintly. He takes it back when the witcher starts growling threateningly.

  
  


“Just so you know, I'm not dropping the subject of your brothers. I will know more and I won't be placated with useless details either. I want to know everything ! And in exchange I'll tell you about my family too. It's only fair.”

  
  


Geralt grunts at him and lets him burrow against his uninjured side without a word. Jaskier smiles. They are going to be okay, he is sure of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaand we have the mountain.  
> I can't write angst so humor it is!


	12. Finally some answers

**Chapter twelve : Finally some answers**

  
  


Jaskier spends a wonderful winter with his sister, his brother-in-law and his new nephew that he tries to spoil rotten. The only downside is his sister's in-laws. His husband clearly doesn't understand why Jaskier chose to become a bard instead of staying a lord but he stays polite.

  
  


His parents however are not. They make snide remarks, ask about his income, about possible bastard children and some rumors about a dungeon in Temeria which he denies is true. He's an upstanding bard not a scoundrel, thank you very much.

  
  


Geralt comes to fetch him at his sister's estate in spring and Jaskier beams at him when they reunite. He introduces his friend to his hosts and everything goes smoothly even if the witcher scowls during the entire visit and the ancient couple complain about the presence of a mutant in their home. Jaskier and Geralt last two days before they are on the road again.

  
  


They travel together for a month before Geralt hears about a griffin in the mountains and Jaskier decides to abandon him at the bottom of it because he doesn't fancy a climb right at this moment. They plan to meet up again two weeks later and Jaskier finds work in a tavern five days away from where he left his friend.

  
  


He books a room for two nights and offers his service to the widow managing the establishment for her young son. She hires him with a smile but asks him to still pay for his room. Jaskier complies because his purse is full and the woman could certainly use the money.

  
  


His performance attracts a few curious faces the first night and he draws in a large crowd on the second night. He spends his evening singing and dancing and retires to his room with a charming young lady on his arm. The problem is that she runs screaming in fright as soon as he opens the door to his room, because a witcher is lounging against the wall next to the window.

  
  


The bearded man smiles mockingly at him, takes three long steps to join him and tugs him into the room, hard. Jaskier swallows and really wonders what he did to deserve this sort of treatment. He longs for the year before, at least it had been devoid of angry witchers.

  
  


The door to his room is slammed behind him and Jaskier huddles against it because he recognizes the damn man. It's the witcher who threw him out of the window into a manure cart in Vengerberg some years past. He raises his hands in a placating gesture.

  
  


“Right, hello. Sorry again for the last time, it totally wasn't my intention to disturb you. If you could, _please_ , not throw me out of the window this time, it would be fantastic.”

  
  


A tankard of ale is aggressively shoved into his hands and he is being manhandled until he is forced to sit on the only chair in the room.

  
  


“Preemptive strike”, is the only thing the witcher grunts at him before picking up his own glass and starting to drink.

  
  


_What the fuck ?_ Thinks Jaskier. That's the third witcher to drop in on him unannounced and he still doesn't understand what is happening. A preemptive strike ? Against what ? Or who ? Is the ale poisonned ? He sniffs his drink and finally takes a sip when the witcher starts to approach.

  
  


“Very good ale, thank you. Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to go to sleep so, hum, here is the door ?”

  
  


The witcher's smile turns into a smirk and he makes himself comfortable on the bed. Well it was worth a shot. Jaskier continues to drink slowly under the watchful gaze of his guest and takes a deep breath between two sips.

  
  


“So... hum... you're the third witcher to offer me a drink. A bit aggressively, I might add, try to be a bit more gentle next time. What is going on ?”

  
  


Still no answer is forthcoming and Jaskier despairs. Why are all witchers as laconic as Geralt ? Well, okay, to be fair the cat witchers he met were chatty, in a scary way, so maybe laconic isn't so bad. He'll take laconic over threateningly chatty anyday.

  
  


They continue to drink in silence. The witcher finishes his drink first and comes back towards Jaskier who cringes away from him. The man rolls his eyes and ostensibly deposits his glass on the table next to the bard. Jaskier frowns, he has reasons to be wary, good reasons. And he doesn't like the fact that the witcher seems to think less of him because of it.

  
  


“Relax. I don't plan to harm you,” says the witcher and pats him on the shoulder.

  
  


“Well, I don't know that. I still don't know what you are doing here. For all I know, you plan to throw me out of the window and steal my bed.”

  
  


“Stop being stupid,” he sighs, “and drink the damn beer. I told you, preemptive strike.”

  
  


“Against what ? Nothing dangerous here !”

  
  


“Against your damn annoying habit of barging in on witchers. If I drop in on _you_ , you won't drop in on _me,_ ” he explains with a smirk, “and Letho was right, watching you squirm is entertaining.”

  
  


“Oh, fuck you !”, retorts Jaskier and then asks, “Who's Letho ?”

  
  


“Viper witcher, bulky, bald head, you met him twice, he was injured the first time.”

  
  


“You speak to other witchers ? You're not a viper though.”

  
  


“I'm a griffin. Coën. And, yes, of course I speak to other witchers. I know everything about your little habit of disturbing us.”

  
  


“Everything ?”, asks Jaskier and he hopes that they don't share everything between them, some things should be kept private.

  
  


“As far as everyone's being honest,” Coën shrugs, “I think you met most of us actually. There might a bear or a cat you missed here and there, and oh that one wolf, but otherwise that's it.”

  
  


_Oh, sweet Melitele, they really all are speaking about him,_ realizes Jaskier. That's a horrifying thought. And then he wants to know if Geralt talks to the other witchers too. His friend never said anything and he is mostly antisocial on a good day so maybe not.

  
  


But he told him that he has two brothers and Jaskier wonders if he met them, the scarred one with the wolf medaillon maybe ? The old one he met in Kaedwen had the same medaillon too. Did they tell Geralt about him ? Does his friend know ? But then why didn't he say anything ?

  
  


“Hey, hey, hey... you okay ? You went kind of pale for a moment and your heart's racing.”

  
  


“Fine. Fine. Perfect.”, he stammers, “Just realized some things, that's all.”

  
  


“Nothing to be afraid,” the witcher smirks again, “you became some sort of a mascot for us, you know. So do you have a name ? I don't think anyone asked you yet.”

  
  


Jaskier takes a long sip from his drink and wonders if he should give him his real name, well the one he goes by these days. But then the witchers could make the connection between him and Geralt and he knows that his friend can't stand some of them, most of them probably, with how prickly he is.

  
  


“Julian”, he shares.

  
  


He doesn't go by it anymore but it's still his name, it should be enough. And his guest did give him his name so it's only polite to return the gesture.

  
  


“Well Julian, it was nice seeing you. Better than last time anyway.”

  
  


The witcher nods to him and heads to the door. He opens it and steps into the corridor before sticking his head back in.

“I've got a room here too. Do _not_ bother me.”

  
  


Jaskier nods.

  
  


“Good. Goodnight and till next time.”

  
  


A hand is waved at him and the door closes behind the witcher. Jaskier waits three seconds before running to the door and locking it. He then takes a few deep breaths and inhales the rest of his drink.

  
  


It dawns on him, as he settles under the covers of the bed, that he can probably expect other meetings with witchers, if Coën is to be believed. Better to surprise him than to be surprised, he said. _Dammit_ , he whines in his mind, _what did he do to deserve this ?_

  
  


Can he do something to prevent it ? Probably not, he muses, shit, he'll have to learn to cope with unwanted attention now. He just hopes that the cats won't want to surprise him or the vipers or the angry one who punched him... Well, he could only be so lucky. Jaskier falls asleep lamenting his life's choices.

  
  


* * *

Jaskier spends the rest of the year clinging on to Geralt tightly to avoid meeting other witchers and he is proud to say that his tactic works. He debated asking his friend if he knew about the fact that Jaskier was running around the continent dropping in on witchers but he wasn't ready yet to own up to his actions. And if it happened that Geralt didn't know, well he didn't want to explain himself and be subjected to the disappointed face of doom.

  
  


So, as far as Jaskier knows, his friend is still blessedly unaware of his shenanigans when they part in late autumn. Geralt leaves him in eastern Redania, near the mountains, where the bard found a nice young widow countess who agreed to house him for the winter. The witcher had rolled his eyes when Jaskier had told him that.

  
  


They agree to meet again come spring near Murivel to follow the river Pontar to Novigrad and then follow the coast of Redania north. Jaskier is excited to finally go to the sea and looks really forward to the next year.

  
  


After a week in the countess' castle, he learns that the closest village has some natural functionnal hot springs and he is delighted by the news. He tries to entice his host to visit them with him but she purses her lips and makes a small disgusted sound at the idea that she would have to bathe in the same water as her subjects. _Well_ , Jaskier thinks, _not everyone can be as open-minded as me_.

  
  


His inquiries didn't fall on deaf hears though because some guards, servants and maids are interested and come to him to organize an outing. He is delighted by the request and a week after his arrival, he goes down to the village with nine other people to try the hot springs. If the springs please them, they plan to make a weekly trip of it with possibly even more people.

  
  


When they arrive in said village, they are well received and learn that visitors have to pay a fee to be authorized to enter the hot springs. An inn is located at the entrance of the springs and they ask for a meal and drinks to be brought to them later in the day and, after some bargaining with the innkeeper, they are allowed to enter without paying the entrance fee.

  
  


The hot springs are wonderfully hot in the autumn chilly air and Jaskier and his new friends delight in the warm water. The pools are deep enough that they can submerge themselves, if they want, and they can easily swim or relax in the dark blue water too.

  
  


Their midday meal is brought up to them, still hot from the tavern, and is devoured quickly. In the afternoon some children start to appear in the pools and Jaskier decides that he'd like a little bit of quiet to soak peacefully.

  
  


The springs are composed of several pools. His friends decide to stay in the lower ones and Jaskier heads up to the upper ones where some villager told him that he could find some peace. The children usually stay in the lower ones and the upper ones are hotter and their access is only granted after a bit of trekking.

  
  


He walks for ten minutes, climbing a steep slope, and arrives panting in front of an empty pool. He debates entering this one but discerns another one a little bit higher surrounded by trees and with what seems to be a beautiful view into the valley below. He decides to continue higher and is glad that he took his notebook with him, he can feel the inspiration emanating from the place and is sure that he'll be able to write a brand new love song this afternoon.

  
  


When he finally reaches the last pool, he sheds his clothes and sinks slowly in the dark water with a contented sigh. He can't wait to admire the view and walks straight to the edge of the pool. He takes three steps in the water and steps on some flesh, a knee if he is not mistaken. He lets out a sharp cry. A blurry shape rises from the water and Jaskier comes face to face with a witcher.

  
  


A familiar witcher with a scowl on his face and who is growling at him. It's the horribly scarred one whom he saw more from than he wanted to a few years ago. He takes a step back.

  
  


“Sorry, sorry, again. I didn't mean to step on you but you don't see a thing in the water and well, I didn't think that someone would be what ? Napping ? Meditating ? In this pool. How long can you even hold your breath ?”

  
  


“I was washing my hair.”

  
  


Jaskier gives him a quick once-over and asks dubiously, “With what ? I don't see any soap here.”

  
  


The witcher doesn't answer and backs up in a corner of the pool. He sits down on the bench, which runs all around the hot spring, and crosses his arms defiantly in front of his chest. Jaskier rolls his eyes and goes back to his bag.

  
  


He wipes his hands and takes a bar of soap and his notebook out of his bag. He then tries to hand the soap to the damn witcher who scowls ever harder at him and doesn't move.

  
  


“Yes, I totally see what you are doing here, big bad witcher doesn't want soap. Well, guess what ? It's easier to clean hair with soap than with plain water. Ohh, be your obstinate self, I'll just leave it here then. Feel free to use it.”

  
  


He deposits the soap on the ground next to the witcher and walks to the edge of the pool. The view is truly magnificient. The trees are sporting vibrant colors such as yellow, orange and red, there is a thin mist covering the valley below and everything is just so peaceful. He doesn't even hear the children's cries from the lower pools anymore.

  
  


He opens his notebook and starts to hum while contemplating the landscape. Something about two lovers whose families don't want to see them married to each other. Desperate secret meetings, heart-breaking love confessions and maybe an elopment, he thinks. He is just starting to get the feel of this new song when he is interrupted in his musing.

  
  


“I don't stink,” the witcher says in an affronted tone of voice.

  
  


Jaskier is startled out of his thoughts and turns back to look at his bathing companion.

  
  


“I can't even imagine how you got the idea that I think that you stink from our previous conversation,” he says completely baffled.

  
  


“You gave me soap,” the man accuses him.

  
  


“Yes,” Jaskier says slowly, “to help with the dirt in your hair... Well, I hope it's dirt and not something much more disgusting.”

  
  


“And the first time we met, you left soap too. Heavily scented soap.”

  
  


“Again, yes, because you were nicer than the other witchers I had met thus far and you didn't gut me. It was a thank you and I'm sorry gift.”

  
  


The witcher still eyes him suspiciously.

  
  


“Listen, I don't know what is going through your head right now but I'm not trying to offend you. I'm trying to be _nice_. I know that it can be a difficult concept to grasp but I'm just like that, no ulterior motive.” He ponders things and then adds, “And I can assure you that I smelled things that really were reeking and you're not even coming close to them.”

  
  


Jaskier nods to the witcher and shudders when he remembers the first time he caught the smell of a monster's torn stomach, it had been revolting and he had thrown up under the amused glance of Geralt. It hadn't been a great day.

  
  


He finally turns back to his landscape and is glad to hear the witcher rejoining the pool and scrubbing himself with the soap. He goes back to his composing and his work progresses swiftly after that. He thinks that he'll be ready to present it to the countess in two or three days, he'll have to try to match the lyrics with his lute's strumming first though.

  
  


When he comes back from his peaceful landscape induced composing frenzy, the sun is higher up in the sky and he is alone in the pool. He frowns and is a bit disappointed that the witcher didn't stick around for Jaskier to ask him some questions or to, at least, wish him safe travel.

  
  


He decides to get out of the pool to rejoin his companions. They probably won't stay much longer if they want to travel and reach the countess' estate in the remaining daylight. He towels himself off, dresses quickly and finally spots the soap he gave to the witcher, neatly wrapped in a piece of cloth, laying next to his pack.

  
  


Jaskier rolls his eyes because the witcher really could have taken it with him. He wonders if the man is still present in the village and resolves to ask about him at the inn.

  
  


When he gets back down to the lower pools, his travel companions wave at him and they all start to dry off and gather their belongings. They all look radiand and relaxed and Jaskier has to admit that the hot water really was wonderfull for his poor travel-used muscles. He feels so relaxed that he could fall asleep in the hour, he thinks.

  
  


Before leaving he asks about the witcher and learns that the man took care of a monster for the villagers yesterday and was allowed into the hot springs as a gesture of gratitude. The innkeeper asks him if the witcher disturbed them and Jaskier has to laugh because it was all the contrary, really. He finally gets a confirmation that the man left some hours ago and Jaskier nods because he suspected it.

  
  


He's still a little bit frustated that the man didn't take the soap with him, he'll have to be clearer next time and actually tell him that it is a gift, but it shouldn't come as a surprise to him. The first time he offered Geralt a gift, the man looked so lost and astounded that it broke his heart a little bit, and the few times after that, his friend tried to refuse his presents. Jaskier then developped the habit of sticking his gifts in Geralt's saddlebags for the witcher to find after they parted so that he coulnd't try to return them with a constipated face.

  
  


So it really shouldn't come as a surprise to him that the strange witcher didn't consider it a gift. Well, he'll do better next time. With how his life was going, he was bound to meet him again sooner or later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're slowly approaching the end and clues start to accumulate :D


	13. Really ? I don't need help to find witchers !

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So last chapter!  
> This one is really cracky. I thought about changing things but couldn't, I had too much fun writing it ! It made me snicker a few times stupidly.  
> I know that probably not everyone likes heavy crack but I hope that you'll enjoy the end of the story anyway!

**Chapter thirteen : Really ? I don't need help to find witchers !**

  
  


After weeks of travel following the river Pontar and two days of Geralt grimacing and being bad-tempered in Novigrad, they finally reach the coast and the sea. Jaskier is so happy that the first thing he does, when they reach a clean and empty sand beach, is to take off his boots, roll up his pants and waddle in the water. He stays in it for about three seconds before he comes back out with a whimper. The sea is still so cold. Geralt rolls his eyes at him.

They make a fire on the beach, Geralt goes fishing and in the evening they grill his catches and Jaskier elbows him out of the way at some point to add some seasonning to their meal. If he let Geralt have control over all the cooking process, they would end up eating bland food all year long and Jaskier just can't stomach it.

They eat in companionable silence and go to sleep next to the fire with the sound of the waves in theirs ears. Jaskier awaits the summer eagerly, he hopes that by then the water will be nice enough that he'll be able to go swimming. And maybe he'll even manage to drag Geralt into the sea with him.

They build a new rhythm as they travel along the coast. If they are lucky, they come across a monster on the coast but it happens scarcely. If not, Geralt leaves him for a few days every week and goes inland to look for some contracts. Meanwhile Jaskier travels along the coast and they meet up again a few villages and days later. When the witcher comes back, they usually spend two or three days together and Jaskier drags him to the beach at least once everyday.

As summer comes by, the days grow hotter and Jaskier convinces Geralt to spend the night on the beach more often, with the waves lulling them to sleep. His song repertoire grows too and he adds some ballads to it about men lost to the sea, lovers looking for freedom and escaping together in the sunset and, of course, some bawdy tunes about fishermen's women that he sings with enthusiasm to his audiences' delight.

Geralt leaves him once again, in a tavern on the sea shore on a clear day in the middle of the summer, as he goes back inland for a few days. Jaskier waves him goodbye in the morning and goes back to the dining hall with a yawn. The past few months have been kind to them and the bard's purse is full again. He still continues to play because he likes it and he starts to stock up on coin in prevision for the winter.

He still doesn't know where he'll spend it and he should maybe start to think about it seriously. But first he has women to woo, crowds to please and a barkeep to bargain with for more berries in his breakfast. These things are clearly more important than winter.

He crosses three coastal villages in two days and finally stops at an inn, where the owner agrees to let him stay in exchange for a performance, after he introduces himself. He naps a little in the late afternoon and goes downstairs when the sun starts to set. He is surprised, but proud, to find what seems like to be the whole village in the dining hall when he comes down.

He orders a meal and an ale and starts to get uncomfortable when the crowd doesn't utter a word and just eyes him warily. He tries smiling to a woman or two but they just widen their eyes and avert their gazes at his attention. He wonders if he shouldn't have kept walking instead of stopping here and seriously considers skipping town in the dark.

  
  


He's so freaked out that he mentally prepares himself to run out of town in the dark when a small boy, no older than eight, comes up to him and gets his attention by catching his doublet and pulling on it. Jaskier smiles at him and the kid doesn't leave at a run, probably a good sign.

“Is it true that you are the master bard that tamed a witcher ?”, asks the child. 

Jaskier winces because he is sure that he never bragged about taming a witcher and he doesn't know how that rumor came to be. He wonders what taming a witcher would even entail and decides that he doesn't want to know. He is sure that the kid's or his parents' explanation would destroy the last bit of his sanity. He takes the child up on his lap, gives him a piece of cheese and answers him as best as he can.

“I don't think that you can say that I tamed a witcher. But I truly travel with one. He's somewhere nearby. We're supposed to meet up in two days and with any luck, he'll pass through your village and you can greet him.”

“But why are you with him ?”, the kid continues with a frown on his face. Behind them, the crowd at last starts to make some noise. “Isn't he scary ? My daddy says witchers are scary. And dangerous.”

“He's not scary. He's a bit rude sometimes, doesn't speak much but he is very brave. You even might have heard of him. Geralt of Rivia, the White Wolf ?”

The kid hums as he thinks about it but he shakes his head in a manner that Jaskier interprets as a no.

“Well that will not do. Just get down and let me grab my lute, I'll share the adventures of the great witcher with you !”

The kid nods, wide-eyed, and complies immediately. Jaskier downs the rest of his drink, takes up his lute and starts strumming and singing. Soon the whole tavern is clapping to his tunes and dancing around him and the bad feeling he had in coming in evaporates.

When he pauses, the barkeep hands him an ale and Jaskier drinks half of it in one gulp. He then goes outside to relieve himself and drinks the rest of the glass when he comes back in.

He sings two more songs before his vision starts to blur and oh, he knows that feeling, he's been drugged. He stumbles, catches himself on a table, tries to head to the door but is waylaid by the crowd.

His legs finally buckle under him and he just manages to save his lute from a violent meeting with the floor. The last thing he is aware of is that someone takes his lute from him and a hand is being placed behind his head to cushion his fall.

  
  


When Jaskier wakes up again, it is daylight. His hands are bound behind his back and he finds himself on a cart being pulled by a horse on a path in the middle of a forest. He half expects to see yellow cat eyes watching him. He doesn' see any witchers though and doesn't know if he should be glad for it or not. He clears his throat loudly and is given water by the young man sitting next to him.

“Hum, I don't think I did anything stupid enough to upset your whole village so do you mind explaining to me what the fuck is going on ?”

The young man doesn't answer him.

“Hello ! Someone ? Anyone ?” His voice gets louder until he is screaming and his travel companion recoils from him. A man walking on foot approaches warily.

“You're being brought to the witchers as an offering.”

_What the fuck_ , thinks Jaskier, _what did I end up in now_ ? 

“A witcher ? Singular ? White haired ?”

  
  


He is sure that his questions sound like begging but he doesn't care. He fervently hopes that they are taking him to Geralt. It'll be humiliating but at least he knows what to expect from his friend.

“I don't know. I only saw black haired ones.”

“Okay, right, then I'll just go. Not interested in meeting them.”

“You can't. They are camping near our crops and we want them gone before they make the grains and the fruits wilt. You'll be our offering.”

Jaskier gapes at the man. That didn't sound ominous at all.

“I don't even know where to start about what is wrong with your sentence. Witchers don't make crops wilt, you idiot. And if they bother you, did you ask them to relocate ? Politely ?”

“Of course we asked them. They laughed at us and told us that they wouldn't leave before they found what they came here for. Our two neighbouring villages and us have been making offerings to them for a week now, to try to speed up their departure. Nothing worked. The caravan is still here and the harvest is approaching. And we can't fight them, we'd all be dead in a few hours.”

“The caravan ? The Caravan of the cats ? Oh, no, I'm out of here.”

Jaskier is not about to be brought up to the cat witchers bound as some sort of stupid sacrifice because of some foolish superstitions. As if it's not enough that he stumbles upon witchers twice a year without help, now he has to be brought up to them too. His life is becoming ridiculous.

  
  


He sits up in the cart and manages to reach the edge of it. He hops out of it and doesn't even fall but is soon surrounded by three men who grab him by the shoulders and hoist him up in the cart again. He struggles against them and they bind his ankles too.

  
  


“No, I am not going there. Not interested. Let me go ! I'll pay you ! I'll help you during the harvests. I'll sing your village's praises on the whole continent. Still not interested ?”

  
  


“You'll be fine,” the man tells him, “after all, you already tamed a witcher !”

  
  


“Oh sweet Melitele, I don't know who has been spreading rumors but you can't tame a witcher. I've got a witcher friend, yes, but he's not my lapdog or whatever you are thinking about right now. Just let me go.”

  
  


The man shakes his head and Jaskier must be annoying him because he gags him with a piece of cloth stinking of cheese, it's utterly disgusting. So Jaskier resigns himself to his fate. He doesn't know how he'll be greeted but he has good chances to get out of this kidnapping in one piece, he's almost sure the cats aren't going to kill him. And Geralt is somewhere nearby, if everything goes to shit, the witcher will find him.

  
  


Their journey comes to an end almost twenty minutes later. Jaskier has been squirming on the cart for the last ten minutes because lying on his back on his bound hands isn't comfortable but the young man next to him didn't let him sit up. He's relieved when they finally stop. He can hear several horses and a shout alerting the caravan of their presence.

  
  


He is tugged out of the cart by the man who gagged him and is dragged behind three other men. They stop at a good distance from the caravan and the witchers and Jaskier cranes his neck to try to see if he can spot one or two familiar faces. The broad backs of the men impede his spying and he mumbles imprecations behind his gag.

  
  


He sees two approaching witchers and the men bow to them. Then his captor drags Jaskier forward and forces him on his knees in front of the witchers. Jaskier glares up at them because he refuses to bow his head and is surprised to see the witchers looking puzzled at the display. Good, at least they didn't ask for him.

  
  


Jaskier doesn't see the leader anywhere in the camp but one of the two witchers who have come to greet the party is the weirdly cheerful one he met two years ago, Aiden, if he remembers correctly.

  
  


“We ask you again to leave our land, witchers,” begins the man that brought him forward, “and as a gift, we offer you the bard Jaskier, known as the witchers' friend. We hope that he'll be enough for you to consider relocating elsewhere.”

  
  


The witchers look at him in beffuddlement and narrow their eyes.

  
  


“That is the bard Jaskier ? The famous one ? The one who wrote _Toss a coin_?”

  
  


“Yes,” confirms the villager, “I swear it.”

  
  


“But he can't be,” whines Aiden, and it's totally a whine, Jaskier can attest to it, “that's the Stalker and the Stalker can't be the famous bard Jaskier !”

  
  


It's the turn of the villagers to be confused and to be fair, Jaskier is puzzled too. True, he has been called “stalker” a few times now but he'd like it to be known that he isn't purposely stalking anyone, all the meetings were accident. And he doesn't understand what it has to do with the fact that he is the man who wrote _Toss a coin_.

  
  


Jaskier mumbles and whines behind his gag because he'd like to make his thoughts known and ask some questions but nobody seems to be in a hurry to free him. The young man he travelled with brings Jaskier's belongings and deposits them beside him and that prompts the witchers to speak again.

  
  


“Right. Yes, we'll clear this up together then. Thanks for... the gift,” says Aiden.

  
  


“Or the curse, more likely,” adds his companion in a whisper.

  
  


Jaskier narrows his eyes at him. The men bow again, beg the witchers to pack up and go one last time and leave just like that. Jaskier watches them turn around on the path and disappear from his sight. The witchers are still looking weirdly at him and he mumbles at them.

  
  


Finally, Aiden comes closer and cuts the ropes binding his wrists and ankles. Jaskier takes the gag out as soon as possible and then massages his joints.

  
  


“Well, it was nice seeing you. I'm just going to leave now. Places to be, people to see.”

  
  


“You can't leave yet,” announces Aiden's companion, who seems to be the new leader of the caravan in the absence of the other one.

  
  


“Too bad. I'm off.”

  
  


He picks up his bag and lute and takes three steps away before another witcher grabs his arm and tows him towards one of the fires. They force him to sit on a big stone and a mug of ale is forcibly shoved into his hands.

  
  


“Here. Thank you, bard Jaskier,” is begrudgingly said to him by the new leader.

  
  


“Why are you thanking me exactly ?”, he blinks at him, “Last I checked we weren't exactly on the best of terms.”

  
  


“For the song. _Toss a coin_. It has helped us a few times in the past,” comments another witcher hovering nearby.

  
  


“Oh, dear Melitele, you're serious ? You're the first witchers to thank me for it !”

  
  


“We didn't really know who you were, couldn't buy you a drink before,” explains the leader before walking away.

  
  


Jaskier shrugs and sips his ale slowly. His day took a turn for the weird but he can roll with the punches and if it allows him to leave unscathed, he'll even thank the gods for it. He looks around the camp and wonders what the witchers are doing here exactly. It takes him a few minutes to gather his courage up but he can't resist asking.

  
  


“So what are you doing here exactly ? And what is this story about offerings ?”

  
  


“We have some bets going on about how much longer the humans will keep trying to bribe us to go away and with what offerings,” explains Aiden as he takes a seat next to him.

  
  


Jaskier boggles at him because to him, it looks like Aiden just confessed that the cat witchers are playing a game and being annoying on purpose. They're being childish on a fucking whim, unbelievable.

  
  


“And we're comfortable here,” Aide continues, “The villages offered us food, drink, some chickens and clothes as bribes so we're wanting for nothing. One of the aldermen even brought us a whore !”

  
  


“Really ?”, asks Jaskier dubiously, looking around the camp. “And what did you do with her ? I don't see her.”

  
  


“It's a him actually. The men who brought him said that they weren't going to waste a good woman on us, so they brought the only male available. It was a weird afternoon, not everyday you're being gifted a human. Even if being this rude in the delivery was stupid, you don't try to bribe people by being this coarse with them. Anymay, he's resting, I think. He works hard to earn his keep, if you catch my meaning,” Aiden leers at him.

  
  


“Classy,” Jaskier deadpans. “You know that slavery is frowned upon by some people, right ?”

  
  


“He's not a slave,” Aiden says and crosses his arms on his chest defensively, “he works for us and we take care of him. He seems content enough for now. We are discussing the possibility of taking him with us for a while when we leave.”

  
  


Jaskier rolls his eyes and feels sorry for the prostitute. He also knows things about the private lives of the cat witchers that he'd prefer to forget if given the chance. Why did he ask again ?

  
  


“And when are you leaving ?”

  
  


“In a few days,” answers the new leader of the caravan coming back towards them, “the game is starting to get old and if they think that sacrificing people to us will make us leave faster, well they are sadly mistaken. But we are not looking to collect a menagerie of humans either. Just taking you with us makes me shudder, you'd be more trouble than what you are worth.”

  
  


“Great, does this mean that I am free to go ? Like I said, places to be.”

  
  


The witcher hums and signals his brothers. The dozen of witchers composing the caravan all advance on him and he finds himself manhandled in some rough hugs, armshakes and back pats. He even is thanked a few times for his song. He lets himself be passed around in utter bewilderment and is glad to find himself at the edge of the camp when the ordeal comes to an end.

  
  


Aiden and the leader approach and they hug him too. He even gets a giant smile from Aiden, who is still creepily cheerful. He hefts his belongings and takes two steps north when he is brought back against a firm chest and a knife is pressed against his throat. Of course, he couldn't escape the cats without some threats of bodily harm.

  
  


“Do you need a reminder to stay quiet about all of this ?”

  
  


Jaskier rolls his eyes and looks up at the smirking witcher towering over him.

  
  


“I'll be as silent as a gr...,” he stops his sentence when he sees the smirk the witcher is sporting widening and amends, “I'll stay quiet, not a word. Your reputation as fearsome monster hunters is safe. I won't tell anybody that you can be bored childish flighty assholes when the mood strikes you. That's between you and me.”

  
  


Aiden laughs at his quip and the leader takes his knife back. He sheathes it somewhere on his back and shoos him away with a wave and a roll of his eyes. Jaskier turns back one last time after he put some distance between him and the cats.

  
  


“Tell hello to your leader for me,” he shouts at them, “and that I totally don't miss him.”

  
  


He doesn't get an answer but no one comes running after him either. He heads north and decides to avoid the next two or three villages until Geralt finds him again. He has no desire to be captured again and brought back to the cats.

  
  


His stomach growls and he fishes a piece of jerky out of his bag. He chews it slowly as he thinks about his friend. Jaskier will hug him again when they reunite and he'll probably cling a little too. Yes, that should help him get over his last meeting with the cat witchers.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Geralt finds him camping on a beach two days after his encounter with the cats. He raises an eyebrow when he sees him but doesn't comment on his choice of lodging and Jaskier doesn't offer an explanation. They sleep beneath the stars and in the morning Jaskier finally manages to drag Geralt in the sea, he regrets it a little when the witcher dunks him five times in a row.

  
  


They travel together for a few days and Geralt leaves him again in an inn in a new village hopefully devoid of kidnappers this time. The people seem nice and they welcome him readily enough. He spends an evening singing for them and in the morning he gets asked some questions about witchers and especially if the presence of a witcher near the fields or the orchards can make the fruits wilt.

  
  


Jaskier rolls his eyes at them and explains slowly that the presence of a witcher isn't dangerous to plants. He continues his journey north and the same question comes back again two days later. He remembers having encountered this rumor all over the continent in his years of travel, even in Oxenfurt, and decides to take the matter into his own hands.

  
  


After all, he got abducted because of this stupid rumor and who is going to defend witchers if not him ? He tries talking to the villagers but it doesn't seem to change their belief. When Geralt joins him again, he finds him in a weirdly pensieve mood and leaves a day later to escape his strange frame of mind.

  
  


Jaskier spends two long days racking his brain before he gets the idea to write a song. If he can produce a tune as popular as _Toss a coin_ , it might make a difference. The only problem is the subject, he doesn't have the foggiest idea of how to make the fact that witchers actually don't make crops wilt into a catchy interesting song.

  
  


His drunk brain solves the issue for him after a lively evening in a new tavern. Geralt is absent, he has a very pleased woman sleeping in his bed and he's still drunk enough that he doesn't want to go to sleep just yet when the idea hits him. If he can't make a song about witchers not making crops wilt, he can make a song about witchers making them grow and flourish.

  
  


He ponders his idea the next day through his hangover and over his walk to the next village. It could work, a new good deed to stick to the witchers' name. He just can't seem to work out how to introduce it to the people. They need something that they could believe, or at the very least find funny enough to forget the nasty rumors, something that isn't horrifying but maybe a little bit strange or hilarious.

  
  


He gets drunk again in the evening and just before heading to bed, with two young lonely widows, the lyrics come out of his mouth without his input. He sings about a witcher pleasuring himself in a field and the crops magically growing high and strong overnight.

  
  


The patrons look at him weirdly and he adds a second stanza about a witcher's semen making a decayed apple tree bloom again. The crowd finally roars with laughter at his improvisation and claps loudly, propably because they are as drunk as him, and he leaves the dining hall with a bow to follow the two beautiful ladies upstairs.

  
  


He indulges in sweet morning sex and doesn't immediately remember his improvisation. When he asks for breakfast, the young son of the barkeep lingers next to his table. When Jaskier asks him if he wants or needs something, the boy surprises him by wondering if the last song he sung last night had any truth in it.

  
  


Jaskier gapes at him for a moment before he remembers his improvisation. He is mortified and wants to drown himself in his tea. The only problem is that the boy seems hopeful and well, if this kid can believe it, why couldn't everyone else ? Furthermore he doesn't want to make the witchers a bad name and that song, it could prevent them from being thrown out of villages and towns for no reason. Maybe. Possibly. In the very best case scenario.

  
  


Or he could be running way ahead of himself. Maybe no one would believe it and he would be ridiculed for telling such tales. And have witchers come after him because he was sharing lies about them. He imagines the cat witchers' faces if they were asked to spread their semen onto some fields and trees. He hides a grin behind his mug and the image of the leader of the cats being begged to pleasure himself to better some villagers' harvests sways his mind. He confirms the tale.

  
  


He works on his song through the rest of the day and sings it again at an inebriated crowd two villages later, it goes over well. It becomes the last song he sings every night, he's not stupid enough to try to share it while everyone is still sober, and the crowds seem to like it.

  
  


Geralt joins him five days later with some guts still rotting in his hair and an impressive scowl on his face.

  
  


“You are taking a bath, my dear, right now,” is the greeting Jaskier offers him.

  
  


His friend's bad mood doesn't lessen and Jaskier has to wait until the water is almost cold for Geralt to finally speak his mind.

  
  


“Jaskier. Why were people in the last two villages I crossed laughing and pointing at me and whispering behind my back about me blessing their fields ?”

  
  


“Don't you worry,” placates Jaskier squeezing his shoulder, “I'm trying something.”

  
  


Geralt's sigh is long-suffering and Jaskier offers him a grin. He sings his new song again at the end of the evening, with the witcher present in the room. The first words from his friend in the morning are an order delivered with a glare.

  
  


“Stop singing it. It isn't true and it's stupid.”

  
  


Jaskier pats his chest slowly and hums, he won't listen to him, his experiment has just started, he needs more data before he can draw a conclusion about its effectiveness. Geralt will just have to suffer through it.

  
  


* * *

  
  


They make their way across Redania at the end of summer and then cross into Kaedwen. Jaskier tags along with Geralt and plans to stop at Ard Carraigh to see if the king will offer him a tenure for the winter again.

  
  


He continues to sing his song and is delighted to note that several people eye Geralt with assessing stares, even if the majority of the people is dubious or mocking. He gets asked some questions about the witcher's prowess in blessing the fields, most are mocking, and continues to strengthen his lies. The people still look dubious though and he makes some miracles up to try to prove his good faith.

  
  


He recounts the imaginary story of Geralt blessing a dead apple tree with his seed in Sodden that came back to life a few days after his departure. He throws in some rumors he supposedly heard about a cat witcher making a wheat field give twice his usual amount of grain at harvest too.

  
  


He's mostly proud of his stories when he sees men and women look contemplatively at Geralt, which to be fair doesn't happen often, if a bit mortified when he stops to think about what he is telling to this people. In truth he's often more mortified than proud, but he persists. He wants to see up to what point he can milk this stupid idea.

  
  


A week before they reach Ard Carraigh, a child comes up to the witcher to ask him if he'd like to bless his parents' garden and Jaskier has to stifle his laugh in his hand when he sees Geralt's constipated face. His friend skewers him with his glare and apologizes to the kid, trying not to disappoint him, because it's not the right season for him to attempt the ritual. The child runs back to his parents, who weren't apparently aware that he went to speak with the witcher, and look at Geralt with wide wondering eyes.

  
  


“I hate you,” Geralt says to Jaskier later in the day. “Stop singing this song.”

  
  


“You know, I think you singlehandedly made my story more believable by talking to the kid and not denying your abilities completely. Yeah, you were lying but he doesn't know that and with any luck, the tale will spread.”

  
  


“You're unbelievable,” Geralt grunts at him.

  
  


His friend leaves him in Ard Carraigh a week later and Jaskier runs after him two days after that because it turns out the king already has a court bard for the winter and he doesn't know what else to do.

  
  


He stumbles upon his friend camping in the forest and Geralt grumbles when he sees him but accept to accompany him to a count's estate which is located on his path. Jaskier hopes to be charming enough to earn his tenure there.

  
  


The count welcomes him readily enough and Jaskier waves goodbye at Geralt the same day. He ends up running after his friend, again, two days later. It possibly wasn't the best idea he ever had to sleep with the countess. He catches up to the witcher a week later in the evening.

  
  


“What are you doing here Jaskier ?”

  
  


“The count threw me out,” he says with a grimace.

  
  


“What did you do ?”, sighs Geralt at him.

  
  


“I slept with his wife. But in my defense, the lady was so lonely and sad that I thought it my duty to try to improve her mood. It turned out that all the lady needed was a little bit of attention bestowed upon her.”

  
  


“You couldn't keep it in your pants for once ?”

  
  


“Geralt ! She was a lady in distress. She has been married for five years, birthed a child and her husband never gave her an orgasm. Not one ! I had to remedy the situation. It's just unfortunate that he took it so badly.”

  
  


Geralt rolls his eyes at him and gives him one of his spare shirts to put on beside his own. It's the further north he has ever travelled with Geralt and it is so cold he is shivering.

  
  


“And what are going to do now ? You can't come with me.”

  
  


“I don't know. Why couldn't I come ? You never told me where you are spending your winters. It might suit me !”

  
  


“Go back, Jaskier,” pleads Geralt.

  
  


“I can't,” he exclaims, “the count's men are looking for me and I don't want to spend a week in the stocks.”

  
  


Geralt watches him carefully and seems to weigh the pros and cons of offering him a safe haven for winter. Jaskier widens his eyes at him, pouts and doesn't try to stop his teeth from chattering. His friend can see right through him and orders him to go to bed. He wakes him up early the next morning though and explains himself.

  
  


“I'm heading to Kaer Morhen for the winter. It's an old witchers' keep. An old decrepit and empty castle.”

  
  


“You spend your winters alone in a ramshackled castle ?”, Jaskier asks in horror. “Why didn't you ever say anything, I would have offered you a place to stay !”

  
  


“I'm not alone, you idiot,” he says fondly, “my brothers and my mentor are there too. The keep was sacked years ago and it's slowly crumbling in on itself despite our best efforts.”

  
  


“Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't know,” Jaskier whispers.

  
  


And Jaskier suddenly doesn't know if he really wants to head there with Geralt. An ancient castle in ruins with only four people to spend months on end with is not how he imagined his winter going. And well, there's a good chance he already met the witchers sharing the keep with Geralt and his friend still doesn't know about his habit of stumbling upon witchers.

  
  


On the other hand, he knows that he can't ask Geralt to take him back south, the witcher won't backtrack this late in autumn, and the count's men are lying in wait south. It might do him some good to make himself scarce during winter. And he probably can't find more isolated than a ruin in the north.

  
  


“Do you still want to come ?”, Geralt asks.

  
  


“I don't remember you issuing me an invitation,” quips Jaskier.

  
  


“Jaskier,” Geralt sighs, “would you like to come with me to Kaer Morhen for the winter ?”

  
  


“I'd be delighted to, Geralt, thank you for your kind offer,” he accepts the invitation with a smile.

  
  


Jaskier wants to strangle his old self when they arrive at the foot of a mountain and Geralt tells him that they are going to have to climb it to reach the keep. _Why_ , he laments, _why did I say yes ?_

  
  


Geralt is smirking when he shares the news with him and Jaskier is sure that his friend knows what he is thinking. It might also be revenge for Jaskier's new song. He narrows his eyes at Geralt and starts climbing stubbornly behind the witcher.

  
  


He whiles the first day away complaining about anything and everything but can't keep it up longer. He spends the next three days, that it takes them to go up, out of breath and shivering because the wind is vicious. It isn't snowing yet and Jaskier thanks the sky for small mercies. He is forced to cuddle with Geralt through the nights too because he can't get warm enough on his own and is so miserable that he doesn't think for one second about the other witchers waiting for him at the keep.

  
  


They arrive at the gates of Kaer Morhen in the early evening of the fourth day and Geralt has to help Jaskier off Roach, where he spent the afternoon huddled on the saddle because he almost fell down the cliff twice in the morning.

  
  


They let themselves in and Jaskier shivers in the courtyard while he takes the sight in. The keep is massive and still magnificent but he also can spot traces of disrepair. Stones missing here and there, a crumbling wall, broken windows and the castle is eerily quiet. Usually a place this big would be swarmed by people and voices would echo through the courtyard.

  
  


He helps Geralt stabble Roach properly, because he doesn't want to enter the keep alone, and his friend smiles mockingly at him like he knows something Jaskier doesn't. He helps him heft their bags and they head up to the doors. Geralt opens them for him and ushers him inside. Jaskier lets out a sigh when he's finally under cover and the wind stops biting at his skin.

  
  


They deposit their bags in the hall and Jaskier follows Geralt down a corridor to a closed door where he can spot some light shining under the threshold. His friend opens the door and motions him inside. Jaskier takes a step in and stops dead in his tracks.

  
  


“You !”, he screeches, “You complete asshole !”

  
  


“What the fuck ? Geralt ! What is the Stalker doing here ?”

  
  


“I'm not a stalker, dammit ! And you dumped my clean laundry in a mud puddle !”

  
  


“You stole my breeches !”

  
  


“I washed your breeches, you ungrateful prick, see if I do something nice for you ever again ! Geralt, give me your boots, I'm going to make the asshole eat them !”

  
  


“I'm not giving you my boots, Jaskier. And stop antagonizing my brother, for fuck's sake.”

  
  


“Your brother ? _That_ is your brother ?”, asks Jaskier in horror because he is going to have to spend his whole winter with the _asshole_. “Wait, why aren't you surprised that we know each other ? Oh, sweet Melitele, you knew ! All this time, you knew, and you didn't say anything !”

  
  


“You're not as subtle as you think you are,” Geralt smirks at him and shoulders past him into what is the kitchen. “Jaskier, that is my brother, Lambert, and at the end of the table you have Vesemir, my mentor. Lambert, Vesemir, meet my guest for the winter and friend, the bard Jaskier, also known as the Stalker.”

  
  


Jaskier waves at them suddenly very self-conscious, it probably wasn't his best work at a smooth introduction. The old white haired witcher, Vesemir then, is pinching his nose at the end of the table and the asshole is looking at him with his mouth hanging open. Lambert finally narrows his eyes at Geralt and launches himself at him with a cry of outrage. Jaskier sidesteps him and the two witchers start to grapple on the floor.

  
  


“You knew, you utter fucking stupid whoreson of an asshole. You knew all this time and didn't bother to say anything, I fucking hate you and I'm going to make you eat your damn dirty socks for the fucking trouble !”, Lambert rants at Geralt.

  
  


Jaskier can just barely discern Geralt's smirk in the pile of struggling witchers on the floor and rolls his eyes. He doesn't know what has Lambert so upset but he figures Geralt withheld some information on purpose to be a smartass and deserves what he is getting. Vesemir is looking at him with exasperation and Jaskier smiles self-deprecatingly at him, he can already feel that this winter will be an interesting one.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Jaskier already spent two weeks in Kaer Morhen and is glad to be able to say that things had calmed down. Lambert was still sulking about something but Eskel, who had arrived three days after them, was a true delight. Geralt took up the bad habit of smirking at him as if to prove that he had bested him and Jaskier hated that smile with a passion.

  
  


They had some awkward moments, notably when Eskel asked an evening at dinner why people were wondering if his seed could really bless their fields to grow more crops in the villages he passed close to the mountains and Jaskier had choked on his drink and ended up whizzing in laughter while Vesemir decreed that no talk of sex was allowed over dinner, Lambert spluttered and Geralt rolled his eyes at the bard. Nobody bothered to explain.

He helped where he could in the daily tasks, worked on new songs and wondered if spending so much time around four witchers would help with his stumbling-upon-witchers problem come spring. He got his answer a month into his stay.

  
  


It is a quiet evening and Jaskier is slowly getting fabulously drunk with Eskel and Geralt after a good long soak into the hot springs and a hearty dinner. Vesemir has long been gone and Lambert left them ten minutes before Jaskier himself decides to call it a night. He is very pleasantly buzzed but if he drinks more, he is going to puke and he really wants to avoid that.

  
  


He waves goodbye at Geralt and Eskel, who are still downing drinks like their life depends on it, and makes his way upstairs on wobbly legs and a delightfully fuzzy head. He looses count of the floors he passes and stops at what he thinks is the third one. He goes up to the second room on the left and opens the door of what is supposed to be his bedroom.

  
  


Only he isn't met with an empty fur-covered welcoming bed but with the sight of Lambert, small clothes down to his knees, stroking himself on top of his covers. The witcher snarls when he sees him and scrambles to cover himself.

  
  


Jaskier lets the door fall close and leans against the opposite wall while his body shakes in hysteric laughter. Lambert opens his door a few seconds later with an obvious bonner and an impressive scowl on his face.

  
  


“You. Are. A. Menace.”, he growls at Jaskier, “I'm going to throw you out of a window before the end of winter. Your room is up another floor, you asshole.”

  
  


Jaskier slides down on the floor and can't stop laughing. Lambert approaches him, grabs him by his arm and drags him upstairs to his own room.

  
  


“Ew,” Jaskier giggles, “don't touch me with that hand, I saw where it went and I'm pretty sure that you didn't wash it before you caught me.”

  
  


“Wouldn't you like to know.”

  
  


Lambert throws him on his bed and smirks while he wipes said hand on Jaskier's lute tucked safely in a corner of the room. Jaskier makes a sound of disgust and the witcher leaves his room with a last rude gesture thrown at him.

  
  


Jaskier keeps giggling into his bed even as he slips under the covers. He just can't seem to stop. He then reasons that this encounter is a sign that his little problem isn't at all ready to solve itself on its own, if he can even stumble unexpectantly on witchers in their own home. It is a promise for a few more interesting years at least, he thinks, and he can't wait for the chaos that is bound to come his way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaaaaaaaand that's it!
> 
> Thank you for your support, it was very appreciated :D  
> I hope you had great fun reading this story!
> 
> I'm working on a sequel with Ciri but it won't be ready for at least two or three weeks I think!  
> See you soon! :p


End file.
